Le Cirque de Feu
by PurpleHedgehogSkies
Summary: The Circus of Fire is back in Panem City. Peeta has always loved the Circus, partly for the girl he met ages ago, who is now the star of the show. He isn't under the impression that he has a chance with her…until the strangest of circumstances bring them together, and neither of them can really help what happens next. After all, anything can happen when the Circus is in town.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The first thing anyone noticed in his bedroom was the bulletin board. It was adorned with flyers and ticket stubs every color of the rainbow, various newspaper clippings and magazine articles and even grainy pictures he printed off the internet or took himself. His brothers' countless friends and girlfriends would stride by his open doorway and do a double take, and a lot of the time they asked him about it. The questions they asked were usually along the same lines, mainly regarding the why.

He loved the circus, that was why. It wasn't just any circus that he dedicated the board to, but _Le Cirque de Feu, _which he could never pronounce correctly despite his endless efforts. It was so much easier just to say the _Circus of Fire. _Or just the Circus, because to Peeta, it was the only circus that really mattered at all.

There was no way he could possibly forget his first time at the Circus of Fire. He was six years old and it was a humid summer afternoon. His mother dragged him roughly along past cheesy games and a fortune-teller's booth as Walden and Cap ran ahead. His father bought him cotton candy, which led to an argument between his parents about how unfortunate his sticky fingers were. He didn't remember the details, only that he allegedly ruined his mother's dress and that he cried while his brother helped him wash his hands. That wasn't really the important part.

The important part that he remembered almost flawlessly, well, that came after. As their parents continued to fight, the three of them wandered the circus alone, the oldest of them nine and the youngest still a bed wetter. Peeta was still crying and clinging to Cap's hand when they passed the animal tent that wasn't open to the public. There was a girl with braids sitting in the opening, humming along to the music that played on the loudspeakers and projected itself over the entire space that the circus took up. When she saw them she got up, running over and kicking up the dust of the fairground paths.

"Hey," she said, and blocked their path. "Your big brothers didn't make you cry, did they?"

"What?" Walden looked confused. The girl just ignored him and looked at Peeta, since she was obviously only talking to him.

"I know how to beat them up," she had said, eyeing his brothers. "If I have to."

Peeta shook his head and looked at her, awed. She was his age but smaller than him, but the way she planted her hands on her hips, he could tell that she meant business. He briefly explained what had happened and wiped away his tears, letting go of Cap's hand as they started to walk along the paths again. Instead he walked with her until they found their parents again, and then he left with them, waving goodbye. At six, he didn't really get why he wanted so badly to see her again…later on, he would, but that day she was just the Circus girl with the braids. He didn't even know her name.

* * *

He was eight before he saw her again. It was winter, actually, and the Circus was taking up an old theater on the edge of town that was practically on the verge of falling over. But the Circus made it come alive.

He had been there the night before and hadn't seen her—instead, he saw the acrobats swinging overhead in the lobby, and the horse show outside in the parking lot. The cold seeped into his bones and made his brothers complain, but Peeta just burrowed himself into his hand-me-down coat and watched, completely in awe.

It was the morning after in the light and the warmth of the bakery when he met Katniss Everdeen.

They came in with a burst of snow and cold—a girl and a woman, the same woman he'd seen in the horse show the evening before. She was blonde and slender and proud, and as she ordered, he found that her voice was smooth like the silk of his mother's scarves that he wasn't allowed to touch. But it was the girl who caught Peeta's eye. She was taller now, and her hair was shorter, but it was the same girl. He stopped cleaning tables and watched her as she surveyed the contents of the bakery case curiously.

Her mother bought her a cheese bun, and then she ambled towards him.

"I do remember you, Peeta," she had said very matter-of-factly as she bit into the cheese bun. Her use of his name took him by surprise, and he nearly dropped his towel."I saw you last night too, at my mom's show."

He was speechless, which made her laugh. She told him that the Circus was only going to be in town for a week, and that they were there to order cupcakes for her father's birthday in a couple of days. He didn't say a word for fear of shattering the moment, or for fear that she'd disappear. Eventually, of course, she did have to leave.

"I'm Katniss," she said, "Katniss Everdeen."

And then she was gone, and in a week, so was the Circus of Fire.

* * *

It was called the Circus of Fire for a reason: at night, they burned torches of brilliant colors, and many of the acts incorporated fire in some way, whether it be passing off torches or diving through flaming hoops. As it developed, the acts grew more and more intense, dragging audiences closer to the edges of their seats. By the time Peeta was twelve, he was constantly re-watching badly filmed YouTube videos of old performances. He kept tabs on the website and read articles and reviews, commenting angrily when somebody was too critical. It wasn't all he did in his free time—he also painted a lot, but that was easily overlooked. To the town, he was the crazy baker's boy in love with the Circus of Fire.

They didn't understand. They would never understand. The Circus of Fire seemed to ignite everything in him that was good and well and happy—without it, he didn't know what he would do. So he watched, and he waited, and he hoped that Katniss Everdeen would remember him the next time she came back to this North Carolina town.

He hadn't seen it coming when he opened the webpage one morning to learn that the Circus of Fire had lost a major performer: David Everdeen, a star in acrobatics and the horse show. He recognized the name immediately, and then the photo posted with the article, a photo of the deceased and his eldest daughter, Katniss. He printed it out, hung it up on his corkboard, and just stared at it until he couldn't bear the hollowness it caused inside him.

For a year, the Circus all but disappeared. Posting was infrequent, and no one was talking about it anymore, but Peeta still kept his collection of flyers and articles. He still held onto the hope that _Le Cirque de Feu_ would be back.

Sure enough, it was back on the map by the next July, burning its way across the country and leaving them all in awe.

There was a new star of the Circus, and they called her the Mockingjay.

* * *

When the circus came to town again, Peeta was seventeen. He was the first to know, the first to buy a ticket, and the first in line when it opened. Now that it was practically the most popular circus in the country, many of the townspeople weren't far behind.

The tents were all set up on the old fairgrounds, but now they were far more advanced than they'd been when he'd seen them. The stripes were brilliant red and orange, and along the bottom, there were rings of yellow flame. Lanterns hung along the paths and he could smell popcorn and cotton candy, even from where he stood outside the gate. The excitement thrumming through him was equivalent to all the joy he'd ever felt combined, and he could barely keep still. The children in the crowd were just as anxious, because they had heard about the Circus of Fire on TV or on the internet, and they had begged their parents to take them to see the Mockingjay.

Peeta had waited years for this, and they waited mere weeks or months. He couldn't hold their excitement against them though: who wouldn't be excited? It was, after all, the one and only Circus of Fire.

When the gate finally opened and the crowd surged forward, Peeta fought his way to the very front. Somewhere in that cluster of tents, Katniss Everdeen was preparing to perform. He would get to see her act in person, watch from the sidelines as she showed the town how absolutely radiant she was.

She was the Mockingjay, the Girl on Fire, her name spoken with high esteem in every corner of the country.

To Peeta, though, she was Katniss. She was the girl who threatened to beat up his brothers when he was six, and who came into the bakery when he was eight. He had met her twice and knew very little about her, but he knew more than they did. She had been his Circus girl long before she was their Mockingjay.

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**Since my previous Everlark Fic received such a good response, I thought it would be fun to try and do another one. This is just a short prologue, and I'm working on the first chapter, which will be up really soon! I hope you like it and I hope the experience is as great as the first! **

**Of course, as a disclaimer, the characters and such belong to Suzanne Collins and I'm just borrowing them.**


	2. Cotton Candy

**Chapter One: Cotton Candy**

Vendors lined the fairground paths as Peeta made his way towards the main tent, shouting over the din about their top-notch caramel corn and funnel cakes. He almost paused to watch a woman with curling gray hair spin wisps of red and orange cotton candy around striped cardboard sticks, but he was in a hurry to get to the tent before they closed it off for the beginning of the first performance. So he sped up his pace and maneuvered around countless children, even greeting some of them by name but refusing to stop engage in small talk with their parents.

When he finally stumbled through the entrance of the blazing tent, he was greeted with a cacophony of excited voices and a sea of people filing into the seats along the edges of the arena-shaped space. The lights were bright overhead, illuminating the acrobatic contraptions and the striped walls of the tent, but there was not a single performer in sight. As he made his way to a seat in a middle row, Peeta tucked his ticket stub in his pocket and apologized to the people he bumped into and stepped on.

The tent continued to fill until an alarm went off, a high-pitched ringing that reminded Peeta of old-fashioned fire alarms. It rung in his ears even after it stopped and the ushers closed the tent flaps that he'd come in through. The lights around him dimmed and a speaker somewhere crackled.

A spotlight began to roam, shedding light upon the expectant faces of random audience members before finally landing on a young man in a waistcoat and top hat, sitting on the steps in an aisle, looking bored. His sleeves were red, shifting into blue at the wrists. When he hauled himself to his feet, he shook out his arms and looked over the crowd.

And then he was gone.

The spotlight swung again as puffs of smoke went off around the interior of the arena, and then the magician strode calmly in through the stage entrance. He plucked a rose from behind his ear and tossed it to a female audience member in the front row, smirking proudly as he made his way to the middle of the tent.

"Ladies and gentleman, I think you ought to know something about circuses," he began, speaking into the microphone clipped to his collar, like the ones they used on TV interviews. "Circuses are just performances. They're cheap shows that profit way more than they should, for all the thrills they give." He huffed. "Circuses are crap, if you'll pardon my French."

The audience appeared to be slightly confused.

"But _Le Cirque de Feu_ is not an ordinary circus," he continued. Slowly, fog started to creep up around the spectators' seats, curling around them and causing them to gasp in surprise. "The Circus of Fire is the real deal. You've never seen anything like it. Trust me, I know. I know everything."

The magician removed his hat, which subtracted some of his impressive height, but not much. He turned it over in his hands, eyeing the crowd, looking decidedly prideful. A steady drumbeat filtered through the speakers, and the screeching of tires and a car horn, and other various sound effects. Fast paced music with pulsing beats began, and the fog drifted closer and closer to the magician.

He casually tossed his hat up, and it caught fire, burning brightly for just a second before everything went dark again. When the smoke cleared and the lights shone again, the magician had vanished once more.

Following that brief introduction, the acrobats made their entrance, wearing matching costumes colored like charcoal and flames. Their hair hung in curls down their backs—one auburn, one dark, one blonde and bright orange—and they were barefoot as they waved at the audience. Swing-like contraptions were slowly lowered, and each girl stepped on one before they started ascending again. The swings then began to move in swirling patterns around each other, faster and faster as they got higher…and then abruptly stopped. From there, the act began, a series of impressive feats of balance, daring flips, and other moves that caused the audience to coo in delight. Peeta knew about the hidden harnesses beneath their costumes and the hardly visible support cables they connected too, but it didn't make it any less magic to see them spinning and twirling so high up in the air without a net to catch them if they fell.

It was stunning.

Next, one of the acrobat girls stayed in the ring and juggled knives and hatchets. After that, the magician was back, introducing himself as Finnick the Spectacular and lighting rings of fire along the arena floor by just snapping his fingers. He doubled as a stand-up comedian and slightly cryptic fortune teller when he brought volunteers forward, making jokes and whipping out tarot cards that had a nasty habit of setting themselves aflame. He wore flame retardant gloves and a super cocky grin, and Peeta could tell that he was the kind of person who got more than enough attention and was completely aware of how "Spectacular" he actually was. Not that that made Peeta dislike him or the act—it was just an observation.

When he vanished again, which he seemed to have a habit of doing, it was time for the horses to trot into the ring, a pair of girls sitting on their backs. They were wearing different costumes, little red dresses with yellow and orange tulle skirts. As the horses circled the ring, the girls stood and showed of their balance skills, and they didn't waver when trotting turned into galloping. They were small girls balanced on the backs of huge animals, and they were smiling and gracefully moving, and when they switched horses so casually…Peeta caught himself holding his breath.

When they rode out with their hands linked, Peeta straightened in his chair and held his eyes wide open. He knew what was next.

The birds flew in one by one until each of them had perched on one of the posts inside the arena. They whistled a set of four tones as the lights in the tent dimmed again, a single spotlight focusing on the two figures that walked slowly into view. There she was, dressed in a slim-cut red dress with a bow slung over her back. Her companion wore black and gray and his hands were smudged and bandaged, and there was something in the way he walked beside her that made Peeta bristle a little bit.

They stood back to back, pulling out their bows and plucking sleek metallic arrows from their quivers. There seemed to be a switch of sorts on them that set the tips on fire, and very quickly the two of them let their arrows fly upwards towards the red and black balloons that were all drifting around near the top of the tent. As the heat flew by them, they all began to loudly burst and the crowd watched as the arrows struck the targets that the balloons had obscured.

Katniss and her companion took a bow, but Peeta knew it was only the beginning.

They shot lighted arrows at the twelve posts and the birds flew up and around, whistling when each arrow hit home. The posts, which were actually more like torches, burned brightly, casting warmth and awe onto the faces of the audience. Katniss and the man with her then turned and nodded to each other before he took the bows and arrows and ran offset.

It was just her now, standing there in the center of the ring. She whistled, like the birds, and they could be heard whistling in return. She lifted the hem of her dress and began to walk, her bare feet dragging through the sand and the back of the skirt leaving a trail behind her. She continued to whistle, and it was all so calm that nobody expected it when she began to spin. She spun and spun, which seemed to ignite the skirt of her dress and create flickering flames that turned with her. She danced, and they spread, blackening the ends of her dress and not fazing her at all.

Now Peeta was definitely holding his breath, watching her twirl and flames engulf her. She didn't even flinch as the audience feared for her life, she just twirled faster, and there was more spring in her step. Katniss apparently got thrills from being on fire, something Peeta was never able to see in the videos online. She had a grin on her face, a reckless abandon with which she danced, and everything within her seemed to glow as brightly as the flames did around her. If he could, Peeta would freeze that moment and live in it forever. Forever to gaze upon her, the girl he'd loved before he even understood it, the girl who looked more beautiful in robes of flames than anyone ever could.

Her dress turned dark and the flames snuffed out, and she stood there clad in the costume that gave her the name Mockingjay. It was black with blue, made to look like the feathers of a bird, and when she lifted her arms there were wings to go along with it. What followed was the roaring of the crowed, the standing ovation, the pleas for encore. Peeta was surrounded by people lurching to their feet and contributing to thundering applause, and he had no choice but to stand with them or lose his view of her.

But he didn't whistle and cheer like the others, he just clapped slowly and appreciatively as Katniss curtsied and turned towards the exit. He whispered her name, only to have it lost in the sea of noise, which was just as well. After all, to her, he was just another face in the crowd. It didn't matter that she'd set his heart on fire and now he could feel it burning in his chest, and it didn't matter that he had met her before she was the Mockingjay.

He was just a Circus aficionado and a baker's boy with paint in his hair, and she was a radiant dream of a girl that left him breathless. Nothing would happen between them. Nothing ever could.

* * *

The fire made her feel alive.

It was simple: the moments Katniss spent performing with the flames lapping up around her were the happiest she'd had since her father died. People thought she was crazy for loving it so much, but it was when she felt closest to him. The Circus was his home and the stage was his life, and the thrill that came with her performance was partly because it was in her blood. Sometimes when she started to spin, the crowd would seemingly fade away and he would be there, watching proudly from the stands. He'd take her hand and twirl her around like he did when she was a little girl, and she would just lose herself in the daydream…until of course, the flames went out again.

Then she would accept the applause and head backstage, where people were running about in preparation for the grand finale. They'd all just ride by in horse-driven chariots decorated with the Circus's logo as Beetee set off his pyrotechnics from the control booth. Then it would be over and the crowd would clear out onto the fairgrounds to play games and eat and just do other circus things.

Once that was over with, she turned to Gale.

"I would suggest you leave me alone for the rest of the day," she said.

"Aye, captain," he replied snarkily, and he turned and headed towards the grungy trailer he had set up on the edge of the property. The reason she'd cast him off was because they'd had a dispute before the performance about what he wanted to do when he was done with the Circus, and she'd been very upset about what he'd been insinuating. The Circus was not meant to be a temporary gig. It was everything she had ever known, and everything Gale had ever known, and she did not appreciate that he would just leave it behind.

Katniss sighed and got down from the chariot, heading into the dressing room portion of the tent. She slipped into the little alcove she had set up, making sure the curtain was shut as she changed out of the Mockingjay costume and into something more comfortable. Cinna would be by later to pick it up and reset it, so she just left it hanging there and put on an old t-shirt of her dad's and her favorite pair of jeans. She undid her elaborate updo and then spun her hair into a messy braid down her back. Then she grabbed an old baseball cap from Wisconsin with a cow and a cheese wedge embroidered on it and set out into the Circus.

Early afternoon sunlight poked through the wispy clouds above, and Katniss pulled the visor of her baseball cap further down. It cast a shadow over her still made-up face, shielding winged eyeliner and glitter from prying eyes. As a plus, it kept the sun out of her face and was a lot more pleasant than walking bareheaded.

The fairground paths were fairly bustling, and if Katniss had to guess, she'd say that half the town was there and milling about. Typically, when people heard that the Circus was in town, they'd flock to the gates to gawk at the flame-colored tents and wait in line to buy tickets for the whole experience. After they had swarmed in and seen the show and been satisfied, they would often stick around to watch side acts and play the unwinnable games. A lot of the time, if there was another main performance scheduled for later in the day, they would just stay to see it again. Because of this, Katniss was used to the crowded paths and navigated them with ease.

The animal tent was open to the circusgoers today, the flaps drawn back. The faint smell of dung and sweat and horses in general drifted through the opening, but it was another thing Katniss was used to. After the performance, all the animals they used went here to join other animals that they had for no particular reason, like Lady the goat. But Katniss wasn't there to see the horses in their saddles made to look like burning embers, and she wasn't there to see the mockingjays that she was only a little fond of. She most definitely was not there to see the orangeish cat with the pushed-in face that hissed when she entered. No, her routine visitation to the animal tent was solely to see Prim. Prim, her sister, who was still in costume and feeding Lady out of the palm of her hand.

"Hello, random baseball-capped pedestrian," said Prim as she stood up and exited the goat pen. Lady bleated and tried to follow her, but she ended up butting her head against the gate as it closed. Prim reached back into the pen and patted her spotted head.

"Greetings, strangely-dressed circus performer," said Katniss by way of reply. She nudged up her visor and smiled at her sister, who stuck out like a sore thumb in her orange tulle: a fashion decision that no one had really supported except Effie, and she claimed it made Prim and Rue look "just _darling_". Even Cinna sort of regretted the design and she'd seen him sketching out something new to put them in.

Prim sighed and looked at the clock. She had to be leading her horse out soon, because there was a different version of her act meant to take place just outside the tent.

"You did good today, ducky," Katniss said, and Prim grimaced.

"Don't you think I've outgrown that nickname yet?"

"Never," Katniss answered. "You will never outgrow it, because you will never stop being my baby sister. Plus, it was Dad who gave it to you…"

Prim didn't roll her eyes—instead she softly smiled at the memory. When she was little, she wore a shirt that was too big and the back of it stuck out like a tail, making her look ever-so-slightly like a duck. Their father had called her that once, it stuck, and she'd run around the house quacking maniacally like water fowl on a murder spree. It was a memory that both girls were very fond of, and Prim even regretted thinking that she could ever tire of the nickname.

When it was time for Prim to go, they quickly hugged and she hurried off to the stall where her bay stallion was chewing on something he probably wasn't supposed to be chewing on. Katniss stood among the circusgoers for just a moment and watched her sister walk away, and then she spun on her heal and made her way out of the stinky animal tent.

She meandered around the circus until she reached Mags's cotton candy stand, where Finnick was sitting in his plainclothes, a t-shirt and a pair of swim trunks. He was wrapping the bundles of cotton candy and talking with Mags about something or other when Katniss approached from behind and smacked the back of his head.

"And then I think—OW!" he shrieked, and then turned around to glare at her. "What did I ever do to you?"

"You magicked my chocolate stash away. Don't you dare say you didn't, because Annie told me," said Katniss. "Give back what you can and I'll allow you to keep your pretty face."

"Ha, you admit it then! My face is _gorgeous._"

"Keep dreaming," she replied, and turned to Mags. "How's business today?"

"Spectacular. This fiery cotton candy is not a common thing...so everyone wants some!" Mags said excitedly. "Just now a family bought six large bags from me, three of each color."

Katniss smiles, extremely happy. The red and orange spun sugar was a relatively new prospect for Mags, and no one had been too sure that circusgoers would take to it, regardless of how seamlessly it fit into the theme of the Circus. However, it had been a hit in the last location they'd visited, and now it seemed to be selling like hotcakes. A little girl ran over and bought a smaller portion as she stood there, and Katniss was astonished to see how much money Mags had packed into the cash register already.

With her hat still pulled down over her eyes, she joined Finnick in the back of the booth and started tying the packages of cotton candy to the posts that held up the awning, as well as the hooks along the sides of the booth. Despite the fact that she wasn't even handling the stuff itself, Katniss's fingers were sticky and stained within minutes and Finnick was laughing at her when she tried to wipe them off on her jeans.

"Shut up," she said, but good-naturedly. Finnick grinned and tossed a package of baby wipes in her direction, and she opened it to find that there was only one left. She used it and went back to work, but before long, the stickiness was back and she no longer had any way to remedy it. She sighed and continued to help, and her hands just got stickier.

"Go wash them. I'll hold down the fort," said Finnick. She wondered how he managed to keep his hands clean, since he was the one actually putting the candy on the cones and into the packaging. She wondered all the time how Finnick managed to do the things he did, and every time the only thing she could think of was magic. He was an illusionist, but sometimes Katniss considered that his illusions weren't tricks at all, but honest-to-God magic.

She opened the little gate and stepped out of the booth, holding her hands awkwardly so that her fingers wouldn't stick together. Then she said goodbye to Mags and allowed herself to be kissed on the cheek before she headed towards one of the only buildings that was built onto the old Panem City fairgrounds—the washroom. From her experience, they weren't the nicest washrooms ever, and when she approached she realized that they'd gotten even worse. She couldn't even read the signs.

She had to guess which one was the ladies' room, and then she had to poke her head inside to make sure. No urinals, so it only made sense that she'd chosen the right one.

She walked over to the sink and started washing away the cotton candy residue when she heard the door creak open. Someone walked in, stumbled, and then cursed in a distinctly masculine voice.

She looked up to see a teenage boy reflected in the mirror, his eyes wide and scared. Then he closed them tightly, and she turned around to face him, taking in his appearance. He had a nice face, messy blond hair, a big build and a pair of beat up high tops on his feet. And of course, he was frozen in a state of shock and speechlessness, turning to try and make his way out of the bathroom with his eyes still closed.

"Oh my God I am so sorry I read the signs wrong I'm leaving," he rushed to say, and then he bumped into the wall.

"Hey, relax," she said. "It's just me in here, and I was just washing my hands, honestly. Open your eyes before you hurt yourself."

He looked over his shoulder at her, did a double take, and then turned around completely.

"That's better," she smiled. He had nice eyes, a bright blue almost like Prim's, but different. She wasn't going to tell him that of course, and she wasn't going to tell him how familiar he looked either, because it kind of seemed like she had met him before though she couldn't put her finger on the where or the when. "And it's an honest mistake to make—I could've done the same with the state those signs are in."

He nodded and swallowed hard, and Katniss realized belatedly that he was looking at her strangely. She had never been good at reading people, but she could still determine when someone recognized her.

She sighed.

"My autograph isn't worth anything, so don't bother asking," she said coldly, turning back to the sink and removing her hat. She splashed her face with water and grabbed a few paper towels to rub the makeup away. He didn't leave. She didn't care.

"I wasn't going to," he said, once he'd composed himself. "I…I…I'm just sorry for um, walking in on you. I have to um, wash my hands in the men's then."

"It doesn't matter where you wash your hands."

"I can wash them here?" he asked. She looked up and met his eyes in the mirror. They were wide and youthful and so much bluer than regular blue eyes. "No, I shouldn't. I'm going to go."

"Don't," she said, surprising herself. "Just wash your hands and go, it doesn't matter to me and I'm the only one here. And stop looking at me like I belong in a circus."

He laughed.

"If anyone belongs here, you do," he replied. "I've never seen anyone happier with what they do than you are when you're performing. It's incredible, Katniss."

"I hear that a lot," she muttered.

He shrugged and moved up to the sink beside her. With a glance at his hands, she realized that his fingers were sticky with cotton candy and she couldn't help but smile at the coincidence.

"You like cotton candy?"

"Love it. It's my drug," he said, soaping up his hands. "It's ruined my relationship with my mother and driven me to selling pastries to earn my living."

"Wait. You work at the Panem City Bakery, don't you?" asked Katniss, and the boy looked up. He really couldn't be much more than a boy, with the brightness in his eyes and the slight babyness to his face. He nodded slowly, and she grinned. "Do you know how amazing their cheese buns are?"

"I make them even better," he replied. "But my mother refuses to change the recipe."

Katniss finished wiping off her makeup and adjusted her hat on her head. Then she turned to him, looking him over one more time. Between the cotton candy addiction and the fact that he worked in the bakery, Katniss was beginning to form some sort of connection in her head. She recalled very little of it, only that he'd been crying and she'd made some sort of threat towards his brothers.

Peeta, his name was, like the bread but with a double e instead of an i. She remembered that it was embroidered on his apron when she saw him at the bakery so many years ago, and that he'd seemed really surprised that she knew his name.

"So, how recognizable am I now?" she asked him, peering out from under the visor of the hat. Peeta smiled.

"Who are you again?"

"Very funny. I'd like to avoid being recognized again, so…" she waited for him to give her a serious answer.

"I would recognize you anywhere, Everdeen," he said. "But anyone else wouldn't spare you a second glance."

"Oh." _What was that supposed to mean?_ Katniss stood there for a second and he reached around her for a paper towel. His arm brushed hers for an instant before he pulled back to dry his hands off. "Well, I have to go. Don't walk into the wrong bathroom again, okay?"

"I can't make any promises," he replied.

And she turned to leave, but she stopped in the doorway, watching him mess with his hair in the mirror. He probably thought she was gone already. The boy with the cotton-candy hands had grown up nicely, she thought. A smartass with pretty blue eyes and one of the most dashing and genuine smiles she'd seen up close.

"See you around, Peeta," she added, just to see his look of shock reflected in the mirror as she walked away.

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**I'd like to publicly thank my lovely friend Renee for proof-reading and being so supportive over all my fic writing. Also, don't forget to leave a review telling me what you think! **


	3. What is Not in Plain Sight

**Chapter Two: What is Not in Plain Sight **

Peeta's head was starting to hurt.

The fact that Katniss had remembered him was both thrilling and terribly embarrassing, seeing as, of all places, they had run into each other in the ladies' room. At first he thought he'd imagined it, but Peeta was not particularly prone to having hallucinations, whether they involve pretty girls or not. He found himself rather skilled at separating reality from fantasy, and if that skill went rusty he wasn't sure if he'd make it through even a day without losing it completely.

As soon as she was gone, he had proceeded to lightly hit his head against the paper towel dispenser, feeling so embarrassed and ridiculous that he wanted to wash himself down the drain or disappear like Finnick the Spectacular could. Within the next minute or two, he just stood there, overthinking everything and letting his hands air dry before he actually headed out. And of course, his luck was so brilliant that he ran into his eighth grade science teacher, Mrs. Wiress, on the way out.

She didn't ask him why he'd been in the ladies' room, and for that he was very, very glad. Unfortunately, that wasn't the end of it. On his way towards the fairground gates, Peeta stumbled and tripped, scraping away a layer of skin on his knee and getting gravel in it. Then, when boarding the bus, he thought he'd lost his bus pass and had to pay the fare. When it let him off at his stop, not only did he discover that the pass was in his wallet, but he also rammed his head against one of the holding-on poles when he got up. After he cleaned his knee and stripped off his shoes and socks, he flopped down onto his mattress, and of course, he hit his head on the wall. Of course.

Now he was sitting at his computer in the dark, hunched over and squinting because he didn't know where his glasses were. It really was no wonder that he had a headache.

First, Peeta emailed the parks department to notify them of the sign illegibility of the fairground restrooms. Then, he texted his brother asking for painkillers, such as Advil and/or morphine, if possible. Lastly, he Facebook messaged his friend Delly with a very vague complaint about how his day at the Circus had ended in a mortifying and painful turn of events.

Moments later, she replied. **Wait, what happened? **

** I accidentally walked into the girls bathroom. Just my luck…**he pressed send. He watched the screen as Delly got the message, and it told her that she was typing.

**Omg that sounds bad. Was anyone in there? **

** Katniss was. HUMILIATING. She remembered me, too…I don't know if that makes it better or worse. **

Delly waited a while before replying, and Peeta rummaged around in his desk drawer while he was left hanging. He found a multitude of important things—paintbrushes, hand sanitizer and his square-framed glasses that were an unfortunate shade of bright orange. That color choice was among the things he most regretted, right alongside walking into the ladies' room by mistake to find Katniss Everdeen washing her hands.

**…I don't know what to say, Peeta…I'm sorry. **

** Its ok, its not like I had a chance with her anyway.** He added, and then he put his glasses on and leaned back in his chair. He heard the notification tone when Delly replied, but he didn't look to see what she said. Instead, he logged off and headed downstairs for a cup of whatever he could find, which will probably be tea. His was a tea-drinking household all the way, except for Walden, who fucking hated tea.

He rummaged through the stash of tea and found something to his liking, put some water in a saucepan on the stove, and stood there barefoot in the kitchen, all alone. He looked out on the living room, which is mostly barren, since his mother took the furniture when his parents separated last month. When she left, Peeta was more concerned about what she would take in the divorce than the fact that his parents were getting a divorce. His relationship with his mother was rocky, and the split had been a long time coming. As long as his dad kept the house, the bakery, and the boys, Peeta would be content with the arrangement.

He loved his mother, he did, but she was a hard woman to get along with. Covered in spikes and nails, practically, and a conversation with her was like walking out into a minefield…you never knew when you'd be met with explosions.

He just didn't understand why his father hadn't bought a new couch yet.

When Peeta's water had boiled, he poured it into a mug and plopped in his tea of choice—it was cranberry something or other this time. He didn't put anything in it, just let it steep and carried it up to his room.

Being home alone when everyone else was working had definite drawbacks, including the fact that nobody comes running when you spill hot tea on your feet. Peeta yelped and dropped the cup itself, glad that the hallway was carpeted and the impact was lessened. There was a chip in the handle, but that was it—however, Peeta's feet were not as lucky. He soaked them in cold water in the bathtub before cleaning up the spill and returning to his bedroom, where he just curled up with the window open and read a book until he fell asleep in the middle of the afternoon.

It only made sense that he dreamt about Katniss and her twirling flames.

* * *

There was a performance scheduled for six-thirty, so they went out for dinner at five something. Finnick drove, with Annie riding shotgun. Prim and Rue were giggling in the middle seats, and in the back, Katniss was reading a book. Johanna prodded at her and poked fun at the subject matter—it was the guilty pleasure sort of book, a steamy romance about a princess and an outlaw. She ended up just bookmarking her page and beating the acrobat with it, which caused the minivan to be filled with Johanna's colorful cursing, Katniss's punctuated strikes, and everyone else's laughter.

At the diner, since many of them were still wearing some variation of their costuming, whether it be the makeup or a full blown leotard, they got a few strange looks. But of course, the Circus was in town, why should they think anything of a few strangely attired teenagers walking about? The term "circus freak" came to mind, but really the only one of them whose normality was questionable was Finnick. Normal people don't disappear all the time, and they certainly can't set things on fire with a snap of their fingers.

Katniss sat between Prim and Rue on one side of the table, and Finnick wedged himself between Johanna and Annie and, because he was ridiculous, he casually wrapped an arm around both of them. Annie, who was actually his girlfriend, didn't mind…but Johanna decided that the best reaction would be to bite his hand. He yelped and drew back, cradling his hand in front of him as a waitress strode up to the table. She had a lot of fiery curls and seemed cheerful as she asked them what drinks they wanted.

"A round of root beers," said Finnick. Anyone who didn't know him well would think the movement of his eyes a little rude, what with where they landed, but Katniss knew better. He was reading her nametag. "Make hers diet," he gestured to Johanna. The waitress nodded. "Thank you, Myra."

"Thank _you,_ Finnick the Spectacular," she replied, and then she walked away.

They all flipped through the menu and made small talk about the earlier show and the upcoming show and where they'd messed up and whether or not anyone knew the difference. Katniss ordered a regular burger, Prim and Rue had matching orders of Caesar salad, and Johanna as always, had a veggie burger. Finn and Annie were sharing a big plate of pasta that was especially made for two, meant to reflect a Disney movie or something, or so she thought.

Halfway through the meal, Finn pulled out his deck of cards. It was a tradition in the Circus, that whenever more than two of the performers gathered together, and he was there, he did a reading for some reason. Last night, after spending hours setting up, the entire cast of performers and some of the behind-the-scenes people had eaten pot roast around their circular dining table. That time, he read for all of them, discovering good things about the next day's performances and one confusing thing regarding a battle of sorts. They all brushed that off.

Now, he asked, "What's the deal today?"

"Read for Katniss!" said Prim excitedly, before anyone could say anything else. Katniss elbowed her under the table, but she was unrelenting. "It's been so long since you've done a reading for her."

"There's a reason for that, you know," Katniss said.

"A bunch of stuff about not believing in knowing the future and that there's no predestined events?" Prim raised her eyebrows and picked up a crouton from her plate. She wagged it at Katniss as an admonishing mother would. "Well, I call bullshit on that today."

"Prim!" she scolded. Cuss words never bothered her much, unless they came from the mouth of Prim or Rue.

"Actually, Katniss," said Finnick, shuffling his cards. "I think you're long overdue."

"If anyone's long overdue, it's Gale," she snapped. Finn's tarot cards, with their bright illustrations and pyromania, gave Gale the creeps. They all knew he'd blow a gasket if he found out that Finnick had ever done a reading for him, which he had, on multiple occasions. Just without his direct consent.

This actually succeeded in diverting attention from Katniss, if only for a few minutes. Finn sorted his cards into piles and drew a few, randomly. He smugly held up three, the Knight of Wands that Gale always got, the Seven of Cups, and something else that Katniss couldn't read before they all burst into flames.

"Basically, he's still this courageous warrior, thinks he's the shit…blah, blah, blah. However this time it appears that he has a bit of a choice to make, between what he has and what he can get," Finnick said, flicking ash off his fingers. Katniss had often entertained the idea that the gloves he wore when he performed were more of a trick than the actual magic he did. Males were mysterious creatures, but the Finnick the "illusionist" was the most mysterious she'd met. "Not much different from any of his other readings, honestly."

Katniss nodded. She had expected Gale's reading to be just as its predecessors were: a reflection of his courage and the fire in him and whatnot. The choice, however, threw her off. Was this, perhaps, the choice between staying in the Circus or leaving it? It upset her all over again, enough that almost didn't notice when Finnick started shuffling his cards again in the complicated bridge formation that she could never get down. He also had another very smug expression, with his grin all crooked and his eyebrows poised gracefully above where they usually were.

"Finnick…"

He spread out a few cards and wiggled the aforementioned eyebrows at her.

"Pick them or I will pick for you," he said, smirking. "You're not getting out of this, girl on fire."

Katniss knew he wasn't going to give up, so she plucked a few from the spread-out pile and thrust them face down in his direction for reading, though she didn't really care what they said. The way his expression changed from cocky to intrigued in a split-second when he looked at her cards changed her mind. He spread looked at each one and furrowed his brow, taking his time with the interpretation. Katniss fidgeted in her seat.

"Interesting," was all he said, and he let the cards burn slowly on the table in front of them.

"What the actual fuck to you mean, _interesting_?" asked Katniss, throwing an onion ring at him. Finnick poked the ashes of the cards around and kept his head down, but she could see the grin forming on his face. Arrogant son of a bitch, he was, but he was like family and therefore she loved him. Even when he was annoying. "_Finnick_!"

"Calm down. It's just not something I usually see in your cards..." he said.

"What is it? What's in my cards?"

"Katniss…it's love. There's love in your cards. I mean, you usually have things like nurturing, or fighting spirit, or something…but this time there's indications of impending romance," Finnick explained. At her blank expression, he shrugged and regrouped his cards before putting them away. "Don't blame me for anything. I don't pick the cards, I only read them. I could be wrong, for all I know…the cards don't even really speak English, so it's hard to tell what anything _really _means."

"That's comforting," she muttered, chewing on the big lettuce garnish that they'd put in her burger basket. The rest of the mealtime went on with the same amount of chattering and enthusiasm as it had been before, but Katniss was not much of a participator. She couldn't stop thinking about Gale saying that he was almost ready to leave the Circus, as if there was some kind of life outside of it. She couldn't wrap her mind around that, that there were other places to be and other things to do and other types of life to lead. The Circus was Katniss's life, her home, and her family. Adding to the frustration was the reading that Finnick had given her. While being vague, as his readings always were, this one had struck a chord inside her. What could it possibly mean?

Katniss had never been in love. She'd never had a boyfriend, since she'd never had the time or permanence for it. Her life was always picking up and moving to another place, and she hadn't lived in an actual house since the year her father died, when the Everdeens took some time away from the Circus. Houses were strange to her, and so were concepts like college and vacations and falling in love. She read about countless romances, but she'd never pictured herself like one of the fair and fragile damsels or manic pixie girls that literary guys fell in love with. She never thought of herself as the kind of girl any guy would fall in love with.

She did light herself on fire for a living, after all.

When it was time to go back to the fairgrounds and prepare for the evening's performance, Katniss dragged her feet a little and got reprimanded twice by Johanna, who said she was being sullen again, and that she needed to move at least at the speed of a hungry tortoise. (The tortoise remark was partly inspired by the fact that Katniss was still nibbling on the lettuce garnish).

In the car, she didn't touch her book, favoring the view of the town flying by her window. To the people living there, the storefronts and picket fences were aspects of their lives, permanent to them but not really in the grand scheme of things, since there'd be a time someday when it was all gone. The Circus wasn't permanent, since it traveled all over, as circuses do. They would arrive, set up, dazzle the crowds, and in a week or two they'd be disassembling tents and packing up trailers again. However, to Katniss, it was everyday life, consistent and reliable. She was born into the family of _Le Cirque de Feu_ and raised to believe that imagination and love were boundless. She knew how to tie her shoes and how to solve for x, but she didn't know how to live without the Circus.

* * *

"Peeta."

Peeta groaned and pressed his face into his pillow. In waking him, Delly was very persistent, as he'd been poked and prodded for several minutes already. He stubbornly refused to acknowledge that he was awake and alert by squeezing his eyes shut and hoping she'd go away. She didn't. Instead she jumped on his bed and kicked him in various places, places that made him fear what she'd aim for next.

"PEETA!" she half-shouted, bouncing up and down. "WAKE UP YOU LAZY BUM."

"Jesus H. Christ, Delly," he muttered, rolling over onto his back. He still didn't open his eyes completely, only halfway, and peered up at her with distaste. "Perhaps I would be more inclined to wake up if your methods were more humane."

She flopped down on the mattress beside him and grinned.

"Well, I was promised a trip to the famous _Le Cirque de Feu_," she said, pronouncing the French more accurately than he could. "And a glimpse of the girl you've been pining for—she must be pretty hot. See what I did there? Because she's the girl on fire?" Delly laughed her musical laugh and rolled off of the bed.

"Are you okay?" he asked, sitting up and peering over the edge of the bed. Delly was still laughing in a heap on the floor, apparently unharmed. "Should I take that as a yes?"

"Yes," she said, stopping her laughter abruptly and hauling herself up off the floor. "But anyway, the show starts in a matter of minutes. Also, look what I found on the floor?" She held up his glasses. "Perhaps if you wear them, you'll be able to see from the _crappy seats we're going to get._"

Peeta took the glasses and inspected them, finding a smudge on one lens and wiping it off on the bottom of his t-shirt. Delly walked around the room and proceeded to clean his room, throwing out the garbage that littered the area around his desk, turning all the spines on his bookshelf in the right direction, and various other things that she always did and he had stopped questioning. As obnoxious and rough-edged as Delly was, she kept things neat and was a bit of a perfectionist when it came to appearances.

"Okay. Let's go," said Peeta, slipping his feet into an awful pair of man sandals, but he didn't care—putting on actual socks would be too much effort. Delly scrutinized his choice of footwear for only a moment before shrugging it off and waltzing out of his room, her skirt swaying. Delly rarely wore anything but a skirt or a dress, and it was for a very simple reason: they were easy, made her feel pretty, and could easily be moved aside for between-the-legs access. She had told him all of this in the late hours of the night, which to Delly were times of candor or deep and meaningful conversation. It was midnight when Peeta had told her about Katniss, and that she was a huge reason why he was so interested in the Circus, and it had been nearly 2 AM when Delly had confessed that she was always afraid what her mother would think of her, if she was still around. She sought out her dad's approval mostly because he was once in love with the woman she strived to connect with, and she ended up hiding things from him because he wasn't _actually_ the person she really wanted.

He knew these things, and she knew that he'd been terrified of his mother throughout his early childhood because of how much she yelled and stormed around, that he hated all reality TV shows, including the happy ones, and that he'd been born with a messed up leg and had to wear a brace a lot when he was younger. They weren't exactly secrets, but the things that were not in plain sight, things they knew because they were the best of friends and had been inseparable since fourth grade.

On the bus to the fairgrounds, Peeta wasn't sure if he was excited to go back or not. The weird thing with Katniss was still bothering him, and he blushed every time he thought about it. In his mind's eye, he watched her rub off her makeup, and he watched himself amble around her idiotically and be generally embarrassing. How could they ever match up, the graceful fire dancer and the clumsy, nerdy, baker's boy?

"Hey, could the other forty percent of your brain come back from Katnissland for five seconds?" asked Delly snarkily. He turned to look at her, sitting beside him on the seat and playing a game on his phone. She gestured to the screen, which was paused. "How do you do this level?"

Glad for the distraction, Peeta walked her through the level. He managed to show her what to do and explain what would come next before the bus neared their stop and he had to pull the cord that notified the driver when to stop. They were let off right at the fairgrounds and had to weave their way through the cars that crowded the lawn to get to the Circus entrance. Delly waved to people she was friendly with and glared at people she disliked. A lot of the people going in this time were teenagers, some of which were from their school and some from the other school on the other side of town.

Some guy from the football team sidled up beside them and said hello to Peeta, having recognized him as Cap's brother. Then he talked to Delly, almost in a flirtatious way, which she was oblivious to. Peeta knew that if she was aware of the flirtation, she'd cut him off and say something along the lines of "you are definitely not my type". She would not specify, and she would not mention that she wasn't even single; she would just turn him down like that and leave him wondering where his shortcomings were.

"Mellark," she said once the football player had gone away. "I have high expectations for this evening. This damn circus better meet them."

"It will be stunning," he said distantly in reply as they neared the gates, his eyes focused on the top of the main tent that was held so much higher above the rest.

"Stunning. So if I'm not completely _stunned_ by the end of this, I'm doing it wrong?"

"Exactly."

* * *

Performing with Gale after their disagreement was awkward, to say the least. The beginning of the act required a certain chemistry, a certain closeness, and they usually managed to pull it off quite well. The story behind the act was one of star-crossed lovers, and really the dance was supposed to be done by both of them…but Gale was squeamish about the flames and he really hated dancing.

During the finale, she was meant to hold his hand in the chariot and look victorious or whatever, but when he reached to weave their fingers together, Katniss didn't let him. Instead they just stood side by side and as soon as the chariot was stopped backstage, she hopped down and started to walk away.

"Catnip, what the hell is the matter with you?" he called after her, but she chose not to reply. Instead she went to her dressing room and removed her costume, which was made specifically so she could do it by herself. Cinna understood her in a way other people sometimes didn't, and this understanding was reflected in his designs for her. She struck him as independent, so he made the dress this way.

In the mirror, she saw Prim slip into her little curtained space. She looked a trifle concerned, as she typically did when Katniss stormed off in a huff or something. Not that it was a common occurrence, really…she wasn't _that_ moody.

"Are you really that mad at him?" she asked, and Katniss only shrugged. "Kat…"

"Prim, he's thinking about leaving. Of course I'm upset!" she defended. She slipped out of the dress and pulled on the same clothes she'd already been wearing. Prim dutifully reached to undo her hair and then, once it was hanging loosely over her shoulders, she began to slowly wind it into a braid. "The Circus is his home, and everyone here is his family. What would he gain from leaving us behind?"

"Katniss, he's never felt like he belonged here," Prim said with a sigh. "Even though he belongs just as much as you or me. He probably just wants to find a place where he fits in, outside the Circus."

Katniss didn't say anything in return, just stood there as her sister braided her hair.

"And he never said that he'd never visit, or cut us off completely. He wants to go to college, not permanently move to Bolivia."

"He'd still be leaving."

Prim sighed again. "You know, I've noticed that you're always really upset when someone brings up leaving, or what life would be like without the Circus."

"Has Finnick been psychoanalyzing me?" asked Katniss sharply. "_Again?_"

Prim sighed heavily for another time as she tied off the braid, and Katniss made a sound to reflect her exasperation.

"Stop sighing at me!"

"He said you either have a really big attachment to the Circus and a problem with change," Prim paused and pulled away, sitting down in the chair in the corner. She folded her legs up under her and tried to look as collected as possible before she continued. Katniss figured she was trying to tread lightly, so as not to end up with an infuriated Mockingjay in place of her sister. "Or it has something to do with Mom and Dad."

Katniss cringed.

"If that was the case…it would be that you feel like they left you behind. Dad died, and Mom became detached…" Prim clasped her hands together, looking like a fucking shrink. "You and Dad were so close, and out of nowhere he was gone, and Mom didn't help. She left you too, in a way…and I think you're angrier about that because she chose to."

"Really, Prim, must you?" Katniss hissed at her sister. "I'm not in a good mood, and you decide to bring up my problems with our parents? Way to go, making it better. But if you need a reason, fine, I do have a problem with change and I do have a problem with the way I feel about my parents. I have never been over Dad's death or what Mom did, or rather, what she didn't do. Maybe that is why I'm acting like this, maybe it's just because I'm damaged by what happened. It couldn't be because I actually care about Gale and don't want him to go, because that's ridiculous."

"I'm sorry, I was just trying to get through to you," said Prim sadly, and Katniss couldn't stay angry. She wrapped her arms around Prim and sobbed into her shoulder for several minutes before pulling away. She wasn't sure if Prim had a point, or if it was just a bunch of psychobabble, and she wasn't really sure why she reacted to things the way she did. She just did, because it was the way she was. Angry, sullen, overdramatic, and her favorite, fiery.

She liked the idea that there was something burning in her, some infinite bonfire surrounded by fuses waiting to be lit. She could be a girl on fire inside and out.

"Are you going to walk the arena tonight?" asked Prim as she stood, and Katniss nodded. "I would join you, but I made plans with Rue. We're going bowling."

"Yeah? Well go ahead," she pushed Prim out of the dressing room, following closely behind. "Have fun and leave your cranky and hostile elder sister to scavenge the bleachers for garbage and free sunglasses."

"I will," she said, heading to the trailer they shared, so she could change. Prim didn't have a dressing room for various reasons, one being the fact she was too lazy to assemble one in the backstage area every time the Circus set up. Plus, she didn't have the same aversion to being recognized and gawked at as Katniss did.

As soon as she was gone, Katniss began to weave her way through the bustling backstage area, dodging the animal handlers and the sparks that Finnick was shooting from his fingers. She stopped and glared at him for a moment, but he didn't offer an explanation, so eventually she started to move again. They weren't even harmful—one spark hit her forearm as she walked away, but it just felt like he'd thrown a pencil at her or something.

Walking the arena was something that Katniss had always done. She would stand just inside the stage entrance and watch as the crowds filed out, waiting for the last circusgoer to leave the performance tent. And then she'd check to make sure that no one lingered before stepping out under the lights again and shuffling around for a moment to take in the empty stands. It was one thing to spin around the stadium-shaped space while people marveled at her cleverly-designed costume that transformed before their eyes. It was another thing completely to stand there alone, with no one watching.

Sometimes, when Prim wasn't there, she'd dance. Sometimes she'd just close her eyes and breathe it in—the feeling of being alone in the quiet, without the roaring crowds. Today she stepped out with the desire to do the latter, just to relax and get some peace of mind. But that wouldn't be what she got.

As soon as she reached the center of the arena, her peace was thrown off course.

"Katniss?" said a voice from behind her, echoing strangely against the walls of the near-empty tent. She hadn't realized there was still someone here. When she turned, she saw him, making his way clumsily down the bleachers.

"Peeta? What are you doing here?" she asked. Peeta stumbled and grabbed onto the railing. He was wearing different shoes, a stupid pair of Adidas sandals. His bright eyes sparkled through the lenses of big orange glasses. He must've gone home between shows. "Did you come to see two shows in a row?"

"I brought my friend Delly," he explained as he reached the bottom of the bleachers and leaned over the barrier that separated the stage and the stands. "But as soon as it was over she ran out to take a phone call. And then she texted me to say she was leaving without me."

"That still doesn't answer my first question. Why are you in here? The performance is over."

"Oh, is it? I didn't realize, seeing as there's so much going on in here," Peeta replied. Katniss raised her eyebrows. The floppy puppy of a boy had quite the sarcastic bite. "What are _you_ doing in here after the show?"

"After the last show I come out here and clean the bleachers," she said. "Don't ask if there's a person they pay to do that—there is, I just make his job easier."

"Okay, is that your only reason?" he asked, swinging himself up and over the barrier and landing with a thump. He steadied himself easily and started walking over, stopping just a few feet away.

She didn't know why she felt compelled to tell him, but she did. Perhaps it was the past, or the way his eyes never left her face as she stood there, considering his question.

"It was something I did with my dad," she finally answered. "Before he died. He liked to be helpful and at the same time, you can find a lot of weird shit that people leave behind."

Peeta nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking out over the stands. She looked too, and even from here she could see the knocked over popcorn containers and lingering wrappers. When she looked back to him, he was no longer assessing the cleanliness of the bleachers, but staring at her with a blush coloring his cheeks.

"Can…can I help?" he asked cautiously.

Katniss nodded, and they went to work.

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**Thanks for the reviews, those of you who left them! They always make me look forward to the next chapter even more. I hope this one met your expectations for it...**

**So, now that I've just started winter break, hopefully I'll be able to update faster! I'm so excited to write the rest of this story. **


	4. Pyromania

**Chapter Three: Pyromania**

They started with the set of bleachers to the left of the entrance, picking up individual popcorn pieces and loose change. The next set brought forth a single floral patterned sock and the one after that had more popcorn and a wad of gum stuck to a seat. Peeta scraped it off with the pocket knife someone had left, and then they moved on.

A few sections down, he swept a pair of cat-eyed sunglasses up off the floor and put them on over his own glasses.

"Hey, Katniss," he called up to her where she was clearing out the upper rows. She turned. "How do I look?"

Katniss snorted. He had never pegged her as someone who snorted when they laughed, but there she was. Somehow knowing this made him even more drawn to her—perhaps she wasn't as extraordinary and untouchable as he thought. It had never occurred to him before that Katniss Everdeen would be as she was: a normal, pretty girl who wore a baseball cap and cleaned out bleachers and snorted when she laughed. Knowing actual things about her made him want to know more—what was her favorite color, her greatest fear? Did she hate Valentine's Day as much as he did? Had she ever been in love?

At the very least, he thought, they could be friends.

He kept the sunglasses on until he found a pair of aviators lying on the floor in a middle row. He took the cat-eyes and his orange glasses off and tucked them in his pocket, replacing them with this nice pair of shades. He didn't say anything to Katniss this time; instead he waited for her to notice and to start laughing again.

"No, but those ones actually look good on you," she said.

He took them off and sat down. "These? Really? These are douchebag sunglasses."

"All sunglasses are douchebag sunglasses if you put them on a douchebag," said Katniss. It sounded an awful lot like something Delly would say, or perhaps like something he would say to her.

"Is that how it works? Hm." Peeta put them back on and struck a pose that was a little bit like the iconic Thinker. Katniss laughed and sat down beside him, close enough that if she were any closer, their shoulders and legs would be touching. He sat up straight again and looked at her, smiling hugely because he really couldn't help it.

To his surprise, she reached over and plucked the sunglasses off of him, putting them on and pushing them up into her hair. She'd taken off her hat and it now dangled from her belt loop. She smiled at him and took the orange glasses from his hand, putting them back on.

"There. That's better."

"Wha..what?" he stammered.

"Don't hide your eyes, ever. They're your best feature," she said. He blinked at her, and she stood up, her baseball cap bumping against her leg. "Now let's get back to work. We're already halfway done, we can't stop now."

And so they went back to work, cleaning out the bleachers and dumping armfuls of garbage in big gray rolling trashcans like the ones in Peeta's school cafeteria. By the time they were done, they'd found two more pairs of sunglasses, a deck of Old Maid cards, an unopened bag of Spongebob fruit snacks and a baby's rattle. They stood together in the center of the arena and looked out over the cleared bleachers before Katniss motioned for him to stay put and ran backstage.

She came back lugging a pair of folding chairs and a scruffy stagehand came in behind her with a small table. She slipped him a five and wished him the best before setting it all up.

"Peeta," she said. "May I challenge you to a game of Old Maid? Winner gets these and the fruit snacks." She gestured to the aviators, still perched on top of her head.

"Before accepting this challenge," he replied. "I'd like to add to the stakes."

_What the hell was he doing? _

"Loser takes winner out for pizza," he said, and he regretted it as Katniss's eyes narrowed. Shit. He had offended her, he'd fucked up and ruined everything.

"You're on, baker boy," she said, removing the rubber band from the deck. "I hope you've got the cash to take me out to the best pizza place in Panem City."

* * *

On his bus ride home, Peeta ate Spongebob fruit snacks and wore a pair of aviators that he hoped didn't make him look like a complete dork. It was late, and the sun was hanging low in the sky when he finally got off at the stop on the corner. He lived in an older subdivision, in a creaky old house with a screen porch and a fresh paint job, though you could still tell that it'd been around since before his parents were even thought of.

He walked down the sidewalk and onto his family's property with his hands shoved in his pockets, one of them wrapped tightly around his phone. Before leaving the Circus, he'd written the number on Katniss's arm, since she'd asked him to…obviously she wasn't going to call him right now, but the fact that she could was enough. The front steps creaked under his feet and the porch door cried out when he swung it open. The actual door to the house was nicer than its surroundings, having been replaced somewhat recently, and when he tried he found it was unlocked.

"Unlocked doors make it easy for the riffraff to get in!" he called into the house. "What if I was a robber? Or a kidnapper or an arsonist?"

"Oh shit, Walden," Cap hollered from his room. "You forgot to lock the door! I think there's an arsonist in the house!"

"If he sets it on fire, I'll grab the cookbooks and you grab the Xbox. Everything Peeta owns can burn!" the other brother yelled back.

Peeta vaulted up the stairs and stumbled only once, running down the hallway to his brother's rooms, which were directly opposite from each other. He went for Walden first, kicking at the beanbag chair he was sitting in, watching Star Wars with a bowl of popcorn. Walden did not budge, only looked up at his youngest brother with amusement in his eyes and a suppressed smile on his lips.

"Want some popcorn, young pyromaniac?" asked Walden.

Peeta took a handful and shoved it in his mouth. He then turned to his other brother, who had appeared in the doorway.

"He's in love with a girl who sets herself on fire for a living," said Cap. "Pyromaniac is actually a good term for him."

"Shut up," said Peeta around his mouthful of popcorn. His sunglasses had been pushed up into his hair and his actual glasses were in his pocket with his phone. He switched them quickly and ended up almost jabbing himself in the eye with the earpiece. "I barely know her."

"You're still in love with her," Walden said.

"No."

"Yes," Cap countered. "You are. You mumble her fucking name in your sleep, bro."

Peeta blushed furiously and Cap sighed. He walked over and slung his arm around Peeta's shoulders, and Peeta noted that he smelled like he'd been working out or something. Gross.

"Hey, buddy, it's okay. You know I support your adoration for the circus," he said. "I support anything that makes you happy, as long as it's not violent or something."

"Same," said Walden, though he was staring at Princess Leia's metal bikini and munching on Orville Redenbacher's.

"Just. Don't fall so hard and expect her to be there to catch you, Peeta," Cap advised. He had stopped joking and was serious now, his eyes wide and cautious. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"Yeah, well," Peeta shook him off. "Shows what you know."

"What?" Cap looked rather confused, and Peeta tried to look cool by puffing his chest out and crossing his arms at the same time, but it didn't really work out well.

"I talked to her after the show today. Both shows," he boasted. "And I gave her my number. She remembered me, and better yet, she seems to like me. We might even go out tomorrow."

Walden spat popcorn on the floor and turned in his beanbag chair. Cap looked shell-shocked.

"Well good for you, buddy," Walden congratulated. He lightly punched Peeta's good leg and then turned back to the buzzing light sabers and scantily clad princess that he so loved.

"Peeta…" Cap didn't seem to know what to say.

Peeta just smirked and moved past him, walking to his own room. Sure, he'd left out the bit where he walked into the ladies' room and just came across her by chance after the late show. And he'd left out the part where they walked the arena and made a bet over a game of Old Maid, which resulted in Katniss being obligated to take him out for pizza.

It just frustrated him immensely that Cap had thought the same thing that Peeta himself had. That he didn't have a chance with Katniss because she was from the Circus, or because she was out of his league. It was one thing if he was self-deprecating and didn't have faith that he could even talk to her without fainting, but it was another thing entirely if his brother was in agreement. His brother, who was usually supportive and uplifting, had believed that Peeta wouldn't be able to get Katniss's attention. That she'd only see a nerdy kid with huge glasses and little bit of a limp.

He was sure that she saw more than that. Didn't she?

* * *

The circus closed an hour or so after nightfall. As the residents of the town were ushered out the gates, Katniss wandered the paths and ate a giant soft pretzel. She watched as the three or four vendors they had packed up their foodstuffs and the contents of their cash registers, and she watched the gamekeepers pull the metal lattices down over their booths. She ran into Finnick as he went around with a lantern in his belt loop, snapping his fingers to extinguish the colored torches.

"What's on your arm?" he asked curiously as she fell into step beside him.

"Nothing," she said dismissively, breaking off a bit of her pretzel. "Want some?"

Finnick took the piece of dough from her and chewed it extremely slowly. They passed a pair of purple torches and in the spirit of showmanship, he simply blew in their direction to put them out.

"Honestly, you claim to know everything," said Katniss. "So why must you ask what's on my arm instead of just telling me?"

"Is it what Prim said? I never intended for that to get back to you," Finnick sighed. "I was just trying to…help the others understand. Gale. Prim. People get worried when you stomp off in a huff."

"Meh."

"I don't know everything," he said. "Nobody knows everything. We aren't meant to."

"Must you be so deep, magic man?" she asked. "It's a phone number, okay? Chill out, I'm not even upset anymore."

"Who might this phone number belong to?" asked Finn, reaching for her arm and reading the number. "The name is smudged. I only see a P and an E. Petra? Peter? Penelope Persimmons?"

"Peeta," she said, humoring him. She pulled her arm back and took another bite of pretzel. "His name is Peeta."

"_I TOLD YOU_," bellowed Finnick, and he startled a bird that had settled somewhere nearby. It took to the sky with a rustle of feathers. "I told you it was in your cards. Are you going to go on a date with him?"

"No. I lost a bet with him and have to take him out for pizza," she said. "It's not the same thing."

"I bet he wants it to be a date," said Finnick.

"Doubtful."

"Why? You're actually one of the most attractive people I know, and that's saying a lot," he said, "seeing as I know myself quite well. But that aside, you've got a killer personality and the kind of walls that some guys are dying to break down."

"I don't have walls," she protested.

"Yes you do," Finnick said. "If you like him, let him in. There's love in your cards, Katniss."

"Oh, shut up," she said, and she started across the lawn towards her trailer. Finnick followed closely behind, quietly and smugly until she turned and shooed him. He didn't go away while she looked, but when she turned her back he must have, because by the time she got to the steps of the trailer she was walking alone.

* * *

His phone rang and woke him so abruptly that he nearly fell out of bed. He thought it might be Delly's typical wake up call, or perhaps that he had slept later than he thought and his father was calling him because he was late for his shift at the bakery. He didn't even look before answering, rather groggily, with an obligatory "Hello?"

"Peeta? Please tell me I dialed the right number, the goddamn sharpie got a little smudged," said a familiar voice, distorted minimally through the phone's speaker. Peeta fell back on the bed and smiled to himself—the events of the day before hadn't been imagined after all.

"No, no," he said, using his best impression of an old woman. "There is no Peter here. Only old Mrs. Mayberry."

"Shit! I mean, I'm sorry, I mean crap? Is that better?" Katniss began stumbling over her own words, which made Peeta want to burst out laughing. "Do you know where I can, um, find a Peeta Mellark?"

"Katniss," he said in his own voice, though it was a bit strained with laughter. "Calm down, it's me. I can't believe you fell for that."

"Damn you, Peeta," she said. "I hope you have nightmares where you become old Mrs. Mayberry and are forced to look at yourself naked."

Peeta just laughed. He couldn't help it—her flustered anger paired with the nonsense she was spouting pushed him to do it. He laughed and he laughed, gasping for air, loud enough that Cap appeared in the doorway and gave him a quizzical look. God, when was the last time he had laughed like that?

"Dude, are you okay?" asked his brother. He turned his head towards him, beaming, which made Cap chuckle. Probably at the way his hair flopped and his mouth hung slightly open to reveal the line of his retainer over his teeth. "I will take that as a yes."

"Go away, Capulet."

"Capulet?" Katniss questioned as Cap flipped him off and walked away. "Is your brother seriously named Capulet?"

"Yes. My oldest brother is Walden, like Walden Pond," Peeta explained. "Cap is like, Juliet Capulet, ha. My mother wanted to name me Petra, like a character in some other book, but then I was a boy and she just named me after a bread instead."

"Wow."

"Yes. My mother is strange brand of human being," he said. "A minefield and a literature buff. She'll probably try and take all the books in the house in the divorce settlement."

"Your parents...? Shit luck, Peeta, I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't be. I saw it coming from a mile away," Peeta said casually. He didn't care anymore. His parents didn't love each other any longer, why should they stay together? "I think they'll be happier apart anyway."

"Oh." He could hear her moving around, running water and brushing her teeth. He waited. She spat. "Sorry. Once the daily routine starts, it's hard to stop it."

"It's fine," he said. It was more than fine, actually. Hearing her start the day was giving him an insight into her life, which was pretty much all he'd wanted. "I don't mind. Why didn't you wait to call?"

She dropped her toothbrush.

"I honestly didn't think of that. I called because I slept in and missed breakfast," said Katniss. "And I was wondering if you didn't mind having that pizza date at eight-thirty in the morning."

"Pizza for breakfast is synonymous with heaven on earth."

"I will take that as a yes," said Katniss. "Now make sure to wear something pretty, I'll pick you up in like, ten minutes. Where do you live?"

He hesitated, but he gave her the address and she fumbled around for something to write it down on. Then she had him repeat it, thanked him, and hung up.

Peeta dropped his phone on the bed and rummaged furiously through his dresser for the blue shirt that Delly thought looked best on him. It had green stripes near the bottom and kind of hugged his body in a certain way that had made her whistle, though he wasn't sure if she was mocking him or not. He then tracked down a pair of cargo pants that hid the scars on his lower leg—sometimes he let them show, but not often, and certainly not today. His mother had always shied away from them and wanted to hide them, though they weren't anything to be ashamed of.

If anything, his scars were a good conversation starter.

Peeta put on these clothes and combed his hair, and then he hunted down his socks and high tops. He was tying the right one when he heard a honking outside, and Cap shouted up the stairs.

"Your circus girl is here!"

"Shut up, Cap!" he said. He heard Walden cursing from his bedroom, and agreeing that Cap needed to shut up because he was trying to get some beauty sleep. Peeta stumbled towards the window and looked out at the black van that had pulled up on the curb. The Circus's symbol had been painted on the side, the flaming mockingjay with an arrow in its beak. Katniss was climbing out and heading towards the house.

Peeta bolted downstairs as quickly as he could, hoping to get there before she could knock, before Cap could answer the door.

And he almost made it. He stood in the living room with one shoe on, one shoe in his hand as Katniss rapped lightly on the door and Cap lingered just inside so he could be the one to throw it open. And he did, with a flourish, and Peeta cursed at him.

Katniss stood there with an amused look on her face. She wore some sort of flowy tank-top thing and a denim skirt with sneakers that were like his, but pale green instead of orange. He wondered if his eyes looked like they were popping out of his skull or if it was obvious that he dropped his shoe specifically because the sight of her threw him off so much that he couldn't hold on to things.

"Um. Hi," he said, leaning down and grabbing his shoe. "Good morning. Again."

"Morning," she replied. "And…which one is this?" She pointed to Cap.

"Cap," said Cap. "Nice to meet you. You threatened to beat me up once."

"I was six. Jesus, you guys have good memories," Katniss said, pushing past Cap and into the house. Peeta was fumbling with his shoelaces and watching her wander around the room, which was still just as empty as it had been before. She didn't ask where the couch was; instead she looked at the various artworks that the boys had made at school since they were young. Peeta's skill was dominant, with Cap being moderately good and Walden being really kind of shitty.

Once Peeta had tied his shoe and hauled himself to his feet with minimal difficulty, he said, "Let's go before my brother figures out a way to embarrass me enough that I have to wear a paper bag on my head for the rest of the month."

"It'd be an improvement," said Cap. Katniss, who was already walking towards the door, stepped on his foot and he winced.

"Oops," she said, smirking. There was some sort of evil glint in her eyes, and Peeta had to smile. So did Cap.

"She's feisty," he said, looking to Peeta. "Guess I don't have to worry that she won't look out for you. I like that."

Still grinning, Peeta pushed past him and headed outside to join Katniss in the conspicuous Circus van. She climbed into the driver's seat and waited for him, smiling when he yanked the door open and shook the whole car. He tried to apologize, but she didn't let him. Instead she buckled up and revved the engine, and before he knew it they were turning off his street and heading south, towards the fairgrounds.

"You know, the pizza place is that way…" he said, pointing north. Katniss grinned.

"I know somewhere that's better."

"Do you, do you really?" he asked, leaning back in his seat. "Have you even had pizza from Panem City's Finest?"

"Is that actually what it's called? Jeez," said Katniss, glancing over without looking away from the road. "What is it with this place and labeling everything Panem City this, Panem City that? It's like a two year old going _mine, mine, mine_."

Peeta shrugged. "I guess that's just how it is…I never really noticed."

The rest of the drive to the fairgrounds, Peeta awkwardly drummed his fingers on his legs and the armrest, and Katniss hummed a soft tune that he recognized from elementary school music class.

"_The Hanging Tree_? Terrifying song," said Peeta. "I cried when I found out what it was about. Same with _Ring Around the Rosie_."

"My dad would sing it backstage a lot when we were little," she said. "Me and my sister Prim. I guess I kind of absorbed it, though he never actually taught me the words."

"I learned it in school."

"I went to school for a year when I was like, twelve. We took a break from the Circus when my dad died," Katniss said conversationally. She didn't bat an eyelash mentioning her father, and Peeta wouldn't expect her to.

When they got there, Katniss parked in the back near the clusters of trailers and other Circus vans. She walked out onto the deserted fairgrounds like she belonged there, and Peeta sauntered after her with his hands shoved in his pockets because he certainly didn't. She led him to a vendor's booth with a bunch of pizza ovens and whatnot and she let herself in.

"I had Sae bring out what we'd need," she said, opening a cooler under the preparation counter and pulling out a couple of dough balls, some cheese, and various pizza toppings. She then grabbed an apron and tossed one at him, which, surprisingly, he caught before it fell to the ground in a pile at his feet. "Now let's get cooking."

They each made a pizza—Katniss's had just about everything on it and Peeta just had a few pieces of Pepperoni on one side, hidden beneath a lot of cheese. When they were baking, the two of them sat on the floor of the booth and talked. He asked about her sister, and she asked about his brothers. They talked about his school and her lack thereof, and he even surprised himself by pulling up the leg of his pants and showing off his scars.

"I had this birth defect," he explained. "Part of my bone didn't grow right. So there was a lot of surgeries and stuff involved…I was lucky to get to keep the leg actually. I still have to wear a brace sometimes, when it really bothers me."

"I was wondering…you have a limp. But it's not bad!" she hurried to say the last part, as if she was afraid of offending him. But honestly, he didn't care. She'd noticed, sure, and that was kind of embarrassing…but didn't it also mean that she had been paying attention? "Does it hurt you right now?"

"No," he shook his head. "I mean, if I step on it wrong or hit it really hard, it would. But usually it doesn't really hurt anymore."

"Hm. I have a scar from when I fell of a horse once, but that's not very interesting," she said, sighing. "Oh, I have a burn scar on my foot too, from dropping a hot pot of boiling water."

"Not from playing with fire?" he asked with a laugh. Katniss smirked.

"I've never burned myself performing. Ever."

Peeta must've looked shocked, which must've been what made her laugh.

"I'll tell you a secret," she said softly, leaning closer so she could whisper and he could still hear. "The fire on my arrows is real, and so is what Finnick conjures…but on the dress it isn't real at all. It's just part of the design."

"Really?" he asked. "But they look so real."

"That's the point…here, let me show you something," she said, and her fingers found a chain around her neck. "My dad helped in developing the synthetic fire that we used for the breathers and stuff when we still had them. Before he died, he made me this."

She opened her hand to show him a golden locket with the mockingjay symbol of the Circus engraved on the surface. There was a button on the side to open it, and when she pushed it, the locket snapped open. A little flame sparked to life inside, and in it was a glowing picture of Katniss and her father…the same one that had been paired with the obituary on the Circus website so many years ago.

"That's amazing, Katniss…" he murmured. He watched in awe when she dipped her finger into the flame, and all it did was flicker. Then she closed the locket and showed him her hand, the flesh just as unmarked as it had been before.

"My dad was a genius."

She was closer now than she'd been, so close that he could see the darker gray strands woven into her icy grey eyes. There were a pair of birthmarks under her right eye and her face was framed by the hair that had fallen from her braid. Her pale pink lips were turned up in a smile, and Peeta felt like he wanted more than anything to kiss her right there, in that moment.

He might've actually done it, if it weren't for the tonal screeching that went off, telling them that the pizza was done.


	5. Velveteen Rabbit

**Chapter Four: Velveteen Rabbit**

She wiped her fingers of pizza residue for the umpteenth time and wadded up the napkin, throwing it at the top of Peeta's head. Her target would've been his face, if he hadn't been looking down at his remaining slices of pizza. The napkin ball made contact, and then fell down to his plate, and Peeta looked up with a half-startled look on his face.

"Is that how it is, then? Throwing napkins at me when I am defenseless?" Peeta huffed, propping his elbows up on the picnic table. The paint was chipping and Katniss had already had to squeeze a splinter out of her palm, but they still sat there and ignored the fact that they'd picked the worst table on the fairgrounds.

"Yes."

Peeta wrinkled his nose and went back to eating his boring cheese pizza. He was a slow eater, she thought. The pizzas they made weren't large and only had six slices each, and Katniss had gotten through hers rather quickly. Peeta still had two pieces left and he was taking his time with them, chewing slowly and making conversation between bites. Perhaps she was just used to eating fast because she had places to be, or he was one of those people who made sure to savor everything.

If that was the case, then she'd admire him for it. So many people she'd met and seen were in the business of wanting instant gratification and not in the business of stopping and smelling the roses. Katniss herself was somewhere in between, since her life was a plethora of excitement and movement and impermanence. She still enjoyed the little things, and she often did want to smell figurative roses (she didn't like the smell of actual ones), but her lifestyle didn't always allow it.

Peeta's phone vibrated against the table, but he didn't even spare it a glance. Instead he told her a story about when he was little and had to have x-rays done a lot, and how he carried a beanie baby around as a security blanket of sorts.

"It was Cap's, but when I started walking around and talking and stuff I really seemed to like it," said Peeta. "So he just ended up giving it to me. It was this fluffy orange thing and I wanted to call it Tangerine, but I couldn't pronounce it so it was just Grr. Anyway, I took Grr everywhere, especially when I had to go to the doctor. I was like, five or six when I got concerned that perhaps Grr might have bone problems too."

Katniss couldn't help but laugh, and Peeta smiled.

"I demanded that he be x-rayed, and they actually agreed to it. It just showed all his beans and they put a heart sticker in his chest area," he said, running his hand through his hair. "They had to assure me that it was all good and Grr was fine…I took that picture home and hung it up on the fridge, and surprisingly, it's still there. I thought my mom would take it down eventually, but she never did."

"Do you still have the monkey?" asked Katniss. He laughed and nibbled on the end of his pizza crust, his blue eyes lit up so brightly that she was almost surprised they didn't actually glow.

"Hell yes I do. He has a place of honor on my bookshelf," said Peeta. He smiled without showing his teeth. When they had started eating he'd been strangely embarrassed when he had to take out his retainer and put it in this orange case that he kept in his pocket, but then Katniss had mentioned that Prim had something similar that she had to wear at night.

"I still have my baby blanket," she admitted to him. "I keep it folded up under my pillow. Prim has this old cat toy that she's loved up so much that three of its limbs had to be sewn back on at least once and it lost an eye in Salt Lake City."

"You've been to a lot of places," mused Peeta. "Funny, I've only ever been here and Disneyworld."

"I went there once," said Katniss. She smiled at the memory. They had been nearby for a show and Prim was too little to enjoy it, so she and her father had just jumped into a Circus van and took a day trip to the Magic Kingdom. Dad's acts were cancelled for the day and he was reprimanded upon their return, but he didn't seem to care—he had taken his little girl to the happiest place on earth, and it was worth the consequences of skipping out on the show. "It was pretty great."

"I bet I had more fun. I didn't have to wait in line," Peeta said with a laugh. "Handicap pass."

Katniss tossed an uneaten pizza crust at him. She didn't like the crusts, and she liked the wide-eyed surprised look he got whenever she threw something in his general direction. This time he even fumbled to catch it, but it landed in his lap and then slid to the ground. Peeta sighed and reached to pick it up, and while he was down, she threw another one so that it landed on his plate.

"_Katniss_," he sighed, looking only slightly miffed. That seemed to be all he had to say on the matter.

She watched him like a hawk as he finished his pizza, and then she made him help her clean up. He protested once, claiming since she had been the loser of the Old Maid game that the least she could do would be cleaning up, but she wasn't about to fold that quickly. She had glared at him until he started gathering up his garbage and they walked together to the painted trash can a ways down the path.

"Hey," she said. "I have an idea, if you've got the time."

Peeta dumped everything he was carrying into the trash can and wiped his hands off on his shirt. He cocked his head to one side, considering what she'd said. "I'll bite. What are you thinking?"

"Another game, another challenge," she said, grinning at him. "You pick the game, I pick the stakes, and I reclaim my status as the winningest winner of winning."

Peeta stood back and thoughtfully stroked his chin for a moment, and then he patted his pockets in search of something. He came up with his phone, but that didn't appear to be the actual thing he wanted. "Shit," he said, turning a different shade of red than the ones she'd already seen.

"What?"

"Well, I accept the challenge," said Peeta, his voice strained. "But first, we have to find my retainer."

* * *

Since he'd sent her a vague text this morning, informing her of the whole pizza-for-breakfast-with-Katniss thing, Delly had been trying to contact him with impressive determination. She'd called and texted and caused his phone to experience multiple seizure-like episodes over the course of the hour. He ignored her, seeing as he had better things to do, especially once he had dropped his retainer case into a trash can and had to rummage through it for the better part of five minutes and basically humiliate himself in front of Katniss for about the eightieth time. If it had been his goal to make himself seem like a total dweeb and further destroy what little chance he had with her, then he had certainly succeeded.

Once he'd actually found the retainer, Peeta went off to the bathroom to wash his hands and the case and reflect upon how fucking pissed at himself he was. Not only had he dropped his retainer into the garbage, which was disgusting and embarrassing in its own right, but he had also done it in front of the girl he admittedly had quite the crush on.

"Fucking fuck," he muttered to himself as he walked into the men's room (he double checked) and turned on one of the faucets. "Really smooth, Peeta, you embarrassing fuck."

He washed everything off like twice before feeling all right to put his retainer in his mouth and the case in his pocket. Then, because he was alone now, he whipped out his phone and finally responded to Delly by speed-dialing her and leaning back against the counter as he waited for her to pick up. It didn't take long—she was probably clutching her phone in a death grip or something, waiting to hear from him.

"I'm hopeless," he said before she could even say hello.

"What happened?" asked Delly around a mouthful of food. "Peeta, it probably wasn't nearly as bad as you think. I mean, you already walked into the wrong bathroom in front of this girl and she wasn't deterred."

"Is that equivalent with digging through a garbage can?" he grumbled. "God, at least I didn't let her help me."

Delly sighed. "That's rough, man, but understandable. She's not going to hold this against you, I promise. I know the way girls' minds work, Mellark, I am both a girl myself and wooer of them. I mean, I haven't met her, but if she's cool enough to set aside the whole bathroom thing then she's certainly going to be cool about this too."

There was a knocking on the bathroom door, and he lost his balance and cursed.

"Dude, are you okay?" Delly asked as the door creaked open and Peeta steadied himself with a hand on the counter.

"Peeta?" Katniss called. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine. I'm fine," he said to both of them. Then, quietly so only Delly could hear, he quickly added, "Gotta go I'll catch you later probably bye," and hung up.

"Can I come in?" asked Katniss.

"What? Yes. Of course. Sure." Peeta shoved his hands through his hair and tried to make himself appear at least a little calmer than he actually was. Not that it would actually work, since his facial expressions generally had a mind of their own and even if he managed to look impassive, his eyes would give him away. "Totally. Absolutely."

He mentally hit himself again for answering in the affirmative so many times. She caught his meaning fine the first time around.

She waltzed in without blinking and leaned against the wall opposite him, crossing her arms and looking ever-so-slightly concerned. Under the florescent lighting that flickered every two minutes, the Aztec print of her tank top looked brighter, and her eyes looked paler and somehow more piercing. No, they were inquisitive, searching, cautious.

"You seemed upset, so I followed you…" she said, shifting against the wall and guiding a strand of hair behind her ear. "And I just realized now that it's a bit like an invasion of privacy, but I just wanted to make sure you weren't like, about to have a breakdown."

Peeta laughed shortly because that was exactly what he'd been about to do.

"Peeta," she said. "What's wrong? Did I say or do something? I swear, the last thing I want is to offend you."

"It's not you, it's me," he said and avoided her eyes. He folded his arms, mirroring her without realizing, and stared at some spot on the wall above her head.

"That's a break-up line," Katniss replied with a good amount of snark in her voice, enough that he found himself smirking. The idea that he'd ever stoop low enough to break up with someone that way, especially someone like her, was ludicrous. The idea that he'd break up with her at all was laughable, considering the fact that he didn't have much of a chance with her in the first place. If some miracle happened and he ended up with her, he doubted he'd ever let go.

"Hell, if I broke up with _you _I'd check myself into a psych ward the next day," he muttered.

"Peeta."

"What? I think very highly of you, okay?" his words were rushed and technically untrue. He did more than _think highly_ of Katniss Everdeen. He kind of obsessed over her, hardcore fangirled, crushed on her to the point that he would sit there and fantasize just what it would feel like to thread his fingers through hers. "If there was any relationship to end you can bet your ass it wouldn't be me to end it."

"Peeta…" She stood up straighter and uncrossed her arms, but then she crossed them again. He should've stopped talking, since every word he said was a shovelful of dirt, digging him deeper into the hole he was tumbling into. He should have shut his mouth and let her think what she wanted, let himself be embarrassed but not debilitatingly so, but having now admitted that there was a part of him that felt for her was like having blown a hole through a dam.

"But there wouldn't be. Of course not," he said with a bitter laugh. "I am a small town dork with oversized glasses and proclivity for watching British television and spending all night on the internet. I bump into things and spill and injure myself on a regular basis and I have a fucking bulletin board dedicated to my love of the Circus. I am, to put it simply, nowhere near your league."

"Peeta, shut up."

"My image of you has changed since I walked into that bathroom," he said, pointing in the direction of the ladies' room on the other side of the wall. "You stopped being surreal and goddess-like and started being real. Every moment I spend with you, you are more real to me, and like some reverse velveteen rabbit shit, the realer you are the more I care."

"Peeta," said Katniss, stepping away from the wall and closer to him. "Calm. Down."

He had been pacing since he mentioned his clumsiness and had been repeatedly shoving his hands through his hair and now that he looked, his reflection made him look so frazzled that it was nearly terrifying. But he couldn't stop digging this hole, pulling apart the pieces of everything he'd been feeling and assaulting himself with what it all meant, chipping away at his psyche.

"I continually make an ass of myself in front of you and I should just stop, should just walk away right now because it would be better for me, but I really, really do not want to do that," he said, his voice breathy and shaking. He wasn't going to cry so much as actually have the breakdown that Katniss had mentioned. "Katniss Everdeen, you had me at '_I know how to beat them up if I have to_', but I wasn't really screwed until we walked the arena. When I heard you laugh and when you told me I could pull off that pair of sunglasses. You must think I'm a freak, confessing it all, making a big deal of nothing. God, is it getting hotter in here?"

His face was a furious shade of red and the air around him seemed heavy. How was he breathing? How was he standing? Why was he even making such a fuss about this? He needed to hold onto something, so he latched onto the counter and stared at the square floor tiles, noting that one of them to the left of his right foot was cracked down the middle. Then a pair of green sneakers edged into his line of vision, the tip of the toes lined up with the toes of his orange ones.

"Hey, Peeta?" she whispered, and he lifted his head to hold her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Getting there," he replied, his voice hoarse and croaky now. He hung his head again and looked to his hands, gripping the edge of the counter with white knuckles. "Sorry."

"No, no, don't apologize," Katniss said. "Just breathe, okay?"

He breathed easier with her soothing tones and sheer proximity, with the way she put her hands on his shoulders. She might've been the cause of his distress, to some degree, but she was also the one pulling him back into normality. When he could relax again and turn to look at her, he was met with a close-up view of her face again, closer than before in the pizza booth. Her eyes were deer-in-the-headlights wide and brimming with a bunch of emotions that Peeta didn't recognize for various reasons, one being that he didn't know her that well, another being that he wasn't well versed in reading people's emotions by their eyeballs.

And then, very abruptly, she leaned in closer, closed her eyes, and kissed him.

Peeta had been kissed before by great aunts and grandmothers and such, on his cheeks and forehead and in a few uncomfortable situations, his mouth. But he hadn't been kissed the way Katniss kissed him, with a soft brush of lips and the sliding movement of her hands from his shoulders to the base of his neck. As small as it was, it sent a shiver down his spine and provoked an acrobatics act in his gut, a pleasant sort of flipping and stirring that was completely welcome. A feeling that lingered even after she pulled away.

"I have no explanation for that," she said.

"You don't need one," he replied, reeling her back in and hesitantly pressing his mouth to hers again, not quite sure how to kiss properly but figuring it out as he went. He didn't think he was very good at it, so he tried to mimic every movement of her lips as they moved against his, softer than he'd thought they'd be. Their noses bumped and so did their teeth, at some point, but Katniss had a way of diverting his attention from that—she would ease back and open her eyes and capture him in them, or she would laugh lightly and kiss him again. She was clearly more experienced than he was, but not by much.

They didn't actually stand there very long, but to Peeta it was as good as a lifetime. And when it was over and Katniss drew away completely, he was content and comfortable when he leaned back against the counter again as she stood across the room and smirked at him.

"So, are you still up for that challenge?" she asked. "Loser takes winner to the diner this evening. I could go for a burger."

"Balloon darts," said Peeta.

"Balloon darts it is," she said, turning and striding out of the bathroom with her braid trailing behind her. Katniss Everdeen, not so much the girl on fire, not so much the Mockingjay. Katniss was Katniss, slightly impulsive, nurturing, with a loud laugh and a smile that glowed as bright as any. In that moment, she was everything he ever wanted.

And she was most likely about to kick his ass in a game of balloon darts.

* * *

**Hey guys, sorry for the delay! I spent a lot of time sleeping and catching up on my TV shows instead of writing, so...well, I hope you liked this anyway. **

**Renee, or Fleeting Nightmare, wanted to turn this chapter into a crack fic where there's a love triangle and Peeta can't decide between Katniss and a slice of pizza and even went so far as to randomly type a passage into my Microsoft Word document. But I must credit her for being a fabulous friend and encouraging this story's development. **


	6. The Easy Feelings

**Chapter Five: The Easy Feelings **

Katniss sent another dart flying, and it pierced a blue balloon that was slightly bigger than the ones surrounding it, and it popped obnoxiously as she cheered for herself. Then she turned to Peeta, picking up another dart, holding it out to him with this ridiculous smirk on her face as she said, "Your turn, baker boy."

He had kissed her. He could hardly believe it. And now they were just casually throwing darts at balloons and he was losing by a lot, but it didn't matter because he had kissed Katniss Everdeen. He would happily take her out for a burger and maybe a milkshake and he'd happily drive her back to wherever she was staying and he would be more than happy to kiss her goodnight if she let him—he could already see it in his mind's eye, more fathomable than ever, him leaning in and brushing her hair out of her face as she looked up at him, and he would lower his mouth down to hers…

"Peeta," she said, shattering his fantasy. She was wiggling the dart in her hand, still waiting for him to take it. "Earth to Peeta, we don't recall signing the papers saying you could go up into space."

He grinned and took the dart from her, sending it flying towards the balloons. It stuck in the board between a purple and a yellow balloon for about a second before it tumbled down to the floor of the booth. Katniss laughed.

"I win," she said.

"I knew you would," he replied. "Because, you know, I didn't bring my glasses."

"Sure, that's definitely why," Katniss said, crossing her arms. "I'm sure you have great aim when you are wearing them."

He didn't. His aim was shit. He couldn't throw anything without missing or hitting somebody in inconvenient places. Memories of playing ball with his brothers came to mind, and they more often than not ended with somebody holding an icepack to his head or, in a few cases, his crotch.

But it didn't matter; Katniss seemed to like him anyway.

She let her arms fall back to her sides and looked up at the sky, squinting. When she asked him for the time, he told her it was exactly 10:26, according to both his watch and the screen of his cell phone. Also according to his cell phone, he had missed three calls and nine text messages, mostly from Delly demanding to know what was happening. She seemed to have given up just a few minutes ago, but he knew he would get an earful whenever he saw her next. There was one message from Walden, who wanted to know where the nail clippers were because he always let his nails grow really long because he gave no shits until they started breaking off in jagged edges and he kept scratching himself in his sleep.

"The first show is at eleven-thirty," said Katniss. "I have to be backstage by at least eleven. Prep should be starting any minute now, though."

"Oh," Peeta said. He figured this meant that he'd have to leave, though he really didn't want to. He had a number of things to do today, including his shift at the bakery, hanging out with Delly as he'd promised, and texting Walden back about the nail clippers, but he really did not want to. He'd rather stay there, with her. In the silence that followed his oh, the fairgrounds slowly came to life, blooming with activity and preparing for the day ahead. He felt like an intruder, even though nobody spared him a second glance.

"Come on," she said, reaching for his hand. "I'll drive you home."

He took her hand and was suddenly awash in the sensation of it—as she led him back to the Circus van, he didn't pay attention to the route, because he couldn't stop thinking. Thinking about their palms pressed together, despite the fact that they were both all sweaty, and the way their fingers fit between each other's. He had held hands with numerous people, family members, his brothers, his parents, even Delly, but there was something different about it this time. It felt so _right_, more right than anything had ever felt, he thought. Besides kissing her in the bathroom earlier, that is.

God, he was such a goner.

About halfway to the car, someone yelled her name. Peeta and Katniss both turned to look, and then Katniss frowned and walked even faster.

"Catnip, hey," said the guy, jogging up beside them. He had some nutrition bar in one hand and had a bunch of stubble and messy hair. He wore rolled up jeans and a Batman shirt like one that Cap had, and he looked really familiar to Peeta but he couldn't figure out from where. "I've been looking for you. Can we talk?"

Did he not see Peeta there, being practically dragged along? Peeta knew he wasn't really the most eye-catching person ever, but he wasn't unnoticeable either. He was built like a star quarterback but he did not have the associated grace—instead he walked like he'd only just learned how and slumped his shoulders.

"No," said Katniss. "No, Gale, I actually cannot talk right now."

"Come on, Catnip," he said mournfully.

"We can talk later. Go flirt with Madge or get ready or something," she replied.

"I don't have a thing for Madge," he protested. Peeta was beginning to recognize him as Katniss's performance partner, and he felt a pang of jealousy.

"Oh, you so do. Now shoo," Katniss said, stopping and locking eyes with this Gale person. Peeta unintentionally squeezed her hand a little harder, and she looked over at him with a smile. "I swear we will have a discussion some time that is not now, so go, young bird. Be free."

Peeta smirked at this, and the guy finally seemed to notice him. He eyed him curiously, and then when he noticed the way he and Katniss's fingers were interlocked, Gale's eyes took on some sort of wariness. Was he protective, or was he jealous? Peeta couldn't tell. Anyway, he eventually shrugged and walked off towards the big tent.

"Should I even ask about the rolled up jeans?" asked Peeta, and Katniss laughed. He was glad to hear her laugh again instead of looking forlorn as she had when Gale was still there. He wondered why his presence upset her, and why he'd wanted to talk, but he didn't ask.

"I have no idea," she said. "He must think it looks fine since no one has told him otherwise."

Peeta chuckled and they walked at a leisurely pace through the remainder of the fairgrounds, a comfortable quiet settling between them. It surprised him, how at ease he felt, but it was such a welcome surprise. Being around people was not something that came naturally to Peeta—he did not have charisma or people skills or anything of the sort, he only had his bumbling self and brain full of witticisms and pop culture references. So naturally, he just felt as if existing was easier around some people. Those people were mainly his father, his brothers, and Delly. These were the people he felt most like himself with, the people he could just sit with and do nothing or could have long conversations with that went nowhere in particular.

Being with Katniss was a bit like that. As worried as he was about her expectations and his tendencies for fucking up, he still felt like spending time with her came easily. Even though they hadn't spent much time together at all—even including their brief encounters as children—Peeta felt so very close to her. This realization sparked the idea that he absolutely had to get to know her even better, and that he absolutely had to woo her even further.

They reached the van and climbed in. After they were both buckled up and Katniss had adjusted the mirrors, she pulled out of the grassy makeshift parking lot and drove off of the fairground property.

As the Circus faded away in the rearview mirror, he blurted, "What's your favorite color?"

"Green," she said without taking her eyes off of the road.

"Oh, mine is orange," he said. "Not like, bright orange, but like sunset orange."

"I figured," said Katniss. "What with your shoes and your glasses and your phone case all being orange. Either that or there was a sale on all things orange-colored at the Walmart."

She drove in silence the rest of the way. To Peeta's surprise, it felt like barely any time passed at all between leaving the fairgrounds and pulling up in front of his house, driver's side against the curb. Katniss leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Call me in a few hours, okay?"

"Same number?" Peeta asked, and she nodded.

"Yes, Prim's phone…I don't have one," she explained. "But she will more than likely know where to find me."

He nodded, and she nodded again, and then he unbuckled himself and half-fell half-stepped out of the car. Blushing, he rounded the front and started up towards his house with his shoulders hunched, but Katniss rolled down the window and called after him. He turned around.

"Peeta! One last thing. Come here," she said, motioning him forward. He took a few steps back in her direction so that he was partly in the grass by the side of the road, but his heels still touched the sidewalk. "Closer." He took a step closer. "Oh my God, Peeta, that is not closer at all."

He stepped up so that he was right up next to the vehicle, his hands on the door. Katniss smirked and reached behind his head to slide her hand through his hair and guide his head down so she could reach his lips. This kiss was longer, more indulgent, and when it was over she gently pushed him back. She grinned, and he grinned back, feeling his cheeks warm and running his hand through his already mussed curls.

Katniss rolled up the window and drove away, leaving Peeta waving on the curb.

* * *

Delly was there when he arrived at the bakery for his shift. She was sitting in her favorite booth with a book of poetry in her hand and her necklace in her mouth—it was a flower shaped pendant that Bonnie had gotten her for their anniversary last year. Peeta remembered that Delly had felt bad about it at first; that she hadn't gone out and bought something, but it turned out that Bonnie liked the poem she'd written better. Something from the heart rather than something from the wallet.

When she looked up and spotted him walking in, she snapped her book shut and got up. Wordlessly, she strode over to him and smacked him on the shoulder with the works of Robert Frost.

"Ow!" he yelped, though truthfully she hadn't really hit him that hard. It startled him more than anything.

"That is what you get for ignoring me. Wait, no, that's what you get for hanging up on me the way you did," she said, and then she smacked him again. "_That's _what you get for the radio silence. I was worried you'd had some major meltdown and forgotten how to breathe."

"No, I'm fine," he said, rubbing his shoulder. "Don't worry. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to work."

He started towards the kitchen but Delly grabbed his arm and dragged him toward her table. He resisted minimally, but eventually gave up and slid into the booth because Delly was stubborn and wouldn't let him go despite how many times he protested.

"Your father is the most patient man I have ever met," said Delly, though it wasn't really true. She knew that Peeta's father was just the type who bottled everything up until he couldn't anymore, and that was when he really flew off the handle. That was why the last year or so had been the bane of his parents' marriage, because Mr. Mellark had had enough. "I'm sure he'll be fine if you stay and talk with me for like, a couple more minutes."

Peeta just sat back and looked at her, waiting for the onslaught of questions.

"I already explained to him what you were up to, anyway," she added. He sighed.

"Did you tell Bonnie too? Or perhaps Panem City Weekly, because I'm sure they'd get a kick out of it," he said with a sharp edge in his voice. "I can see the headlines already: Youngest Mellark boy's first date; ends up hiding in bathroom hyperventilating."

"You didn't hyperventilate," said Delly. "Did you?"

"No."

"Well what happened then? Did you get over yourself and get back out there?" she asked, folding her hands on the table and looking expectant. Peeta rubbed his forehead and shook his head—he wondered how long it would take for her to notice that he was still red-faced from the way Katniss had kissed him, or how elated he was behind his impassive expression.

"No. I freaked the fuck out actually."

She nodded because of course she'd expected that. Peeta sighed.

"Of course I waited until she checked on me to lose my shit and I told her pretty much everything that was on my mind."

"Ohhh shiiitttt," said Delly, dragging out every letter. "What did she do?"

Peeta tried not to smile, and instead he looked at the table and scratched his eyebrow like he generally did when he didn't want to talk about something. Thus giving the impression that the results of his freak-out had been a lot worse than they actually were, instead of feeling like the best thing that had ever happened to him.

"Peeta, are you sure you're okay?" Delly asked, reaching forward and laying her hand comfortingly over his. "I mean, I don't mean to pry. Just. Um."

"Well," Peeta began. "I freaked out and then, once I stopped talking and took a minute to breathe. Well, um, you see…she kind of kissed me."

"What."

"I said that she kissed me," he repeated. "Is that so hard to believe?"

Delly nodded, and Peeta rolled his eyes. Of course she found it hard to believe—everyone would find it hard to believe except Katniss, who was the one who'd done the kissing. People wasn't widely seen as somebody who kissed on first dates—or whatever today had been—not even by his family. He wasn't really seen as somebody who went on dates in the first place. Frankly, he was tired of it. He was getting the girl and he was thrilled about it, but no one had ever believed he could do it.

"I'm not so much of a loser that I can't have anything good come my way, Delly," he said. "I'm not kidding and I'm not lying to you like some lame kid who wanted something to happen that didn't. So, if you'll excuse me, I am late for work."

Peeta hauled himself out of the booth and headed for the stainless steel kitchen doors, but Delly latched onto his arm to stop him. He looked down at her, seeing her genuinely apologetic expression, the softness to her that didn't really come out very often. Delly was all sharp retorts and ridiculous puns most of the time, but she usually knew when to draw the line. This time, she had genuinely been caught off guard, and Peeta had overreacted.

Once he realized this, he settled down in the booth beside her and tapped the table impatiently.

"Of course you're not a loser," she said, squeezing his arm. "You're my best friend in the world, and I could never be friends with a real loser. Being a tad…_unlucky_ is different—losers don't even try."

"Yeah…"

"Peeta, I believe you. It just—you shocked me, is all," she smiled, "I mean, you were kind of abrupt, sounding all bummed out when suddenly you announce that your lip-virginity flew out the window with the Mockingjay."

Peeta laughed, shrugged, and slid back out of the booth.

"I'm sorry I freaked out," he said. "My ego is terribly fragile."

"I'm sorry I broke it," Delly replied. "Now get to work. Bills don't pay themselves, Peeta, and if you plan to take that girl out on a proper date you better keep the cash coming in."

The fact that he didn't have to pay bills wasn't relevant enough to be mentioned, he thought, and he took Delly's mention of this phenomenon called a "proper date" as a vote of confidence. Encouragement wound up in a witty comment, completely and utterly suitable coming from Delly.

* * *

The show ran smoothly, even the act with Gale. She shot arrows, she danced, and afterwards she rode in the chariot with him and waved to the crowd happily. When they were backstage, he helped her down from the chariot and smiled.

"Can I walk you to your dressing room?" he asked, and Katniss nodded. He'd wanted to talk, and she figured that this was his time and place. Better than when she was holding Peeta's hand, about to drive him home. Better than the moments leading up to the performance, when they were supposed to be waiting quietly for their act.

She walked with her hands behind her back and he scratched his stubbly face. Katniss remembered when he first started getting facial hair and how he'd always proudly stroke it, but now he did it because he was trying to string words together in his head so they made sense, so he could effectively communicate whatever he wanted to say.

"So, um, I wanted to apologize," Gale began, and she sidestepped, pausing to give him a look of puzzlement.

"What for? Did you pillage my tampon stash again?" she asked dryly. "Dude, you really have to start buying your own. That shit is not cheap."

"Catnip, I don't have a vagina to bleed from."

"Joke," she told him. "I was joking. You really shouldn't take everything I say so seriously. What are you feeling that you need to apologize for?"

"You're the one who had a meltdown yesterday," he replied. "And it was about something I had said, so I wanted to tell you I was sorry I upset you."

"Oh." Katniss shrugged, and she felt herself closing off to him again. Everything he had said about being sick of the Circus and wanting to get away was spinning through her head again, weighing down her previously high spirits. People had left the Circus before of their own volition, to start a family or a career, but none of them had been so close to Katniss. Gale was practically her brother, and if he was gone, a part of the family would be missing. Would this be considered a manifestation of abandonment issues, or just her fear of change?

"Catnip," he sighed. "I really am sorry, but...I wasn't born into this. I just came into it because I had nowhere else to go. You know that. I'm not cut out for it like you are."

"The Circus is your family, Gale," she said sharply. Katniss was not one who spoke softly, or in a quivering voice. Even when she felt as if she would cry, her voice had an edge to it, her volume changed beyond her control. "You belong here."

"I can't do anything but fire a flaming arrow, Katniss," he said. "I spend more time behind the scenes than any of the performers, and do you know where I prefer to be? The control booth. I am good with computers. I am good with logic. I want to go out into the world and do something I love, something that I can have a future doing. I can't find that here."

Katniss gritted her teeth and said nothing, instead lifting her skirt and speeding up her walking. She couldn't run in these shoes or this dress, but she would've if she could have. That was the way she dealt with her problems—she yelled, she ran away, and then later, she danced. It gave the illusion that the problem could just go away for a while, and she could come back when she was ready to confront it. Of course it wasn't that easy, but she could still pretend.

"Katniss, come on," he called after her, but she was already slipping into her changing room and drawing the curtains shut, clipping them together with the chip clip she'd found in her pantry a few weeks ago. She put on her music, a playlist of classical compositions, and turned the volume up enough so it drowned out Gale's attempts at reclaiming her attention. She was done with him for now. Eventually he would go away.

She changed and waited until he did. Then she ventured out into the Circus again, visiting Prim in the animal tent and borrowing the phone to call her mother, who sounded better than she had when they talked last night.

It was all very formal and obligatory when Katniss spoke with her mother. She asked how she was, and when her mom asked the same, she always said she was fine or good or even fantastic. She asked how work was, and Mom would sometimes tell a story about one of the kids she treated that day. She had been an ER nurse once upon a time, and that was how she'd met Katniss and Prim's father, a guy from the Circus with a broken leg because he'd fallen off a horse. She couldn't do it anymore because it reminded her of him; she'd met him in an emergency room and lost him in an emergency room, and that was too much for her. When she stopped performing, she went into pediatrics and let the girls travel with the Circus.

Sometimes, Katniss would lie awake at night and wonder if her mother had deliberately sent her away. If she was like the ER and the Circus and the wedding quilt that she kept in storage, and she reminded Mom too much of her dead husband. She wondered if when she protested letting Prim stay with _Le Cirque de Feu_ as well, it was for more reason than just how much younger she was. Prim didn't look like Dad, and she didn't have his sense of humor or his musical inclination. Just his love of animals, his nurturing tendencies, and those were things that could've come from Mom too.

But Katniss loved her mother, so she listened to her stories and small-talked with her and hung up with a pleasant "I love you, bye."

"You always act like calling Mom is such a chore," said Prim when Katniss came back, handing her the phone. "Don't you like talking to her?"

"Sometimes," she said, adjusting her baseball cap and turning to walk out of the animal tent. But then she remembered something and stopped, turning back to Prim. "By the way, I'm expecting a call on that. Just come find me in the RV when he asks for me, okay?"

Prim nodded and put the phone in a hidden pocket in her dress, and Katniss walked away toward the RV that they shared. She was in need of a bubble bath to wash away her makeup as well as the nagging stress of Gale's desire to leave and her mother's desire to forget.

* * *

Katniss had been out of the bath for all of five minutes when there was a knocking on the door. Prim was probably getting ready for her side act right about now, so Katniss actually had to put on pants before she could allow whoever it was to enter.

Once she'd pulled on her jeans, she called, "Come in!"

The door creaked open, rocking the RV slightly, and Finnick hopped up the steps holding Prim's phone in its kitten-patterned phone case to his shoulder. He looked around the interior that he'd seen about five hundred times like he was seeing it for the first time.

"Why is it that you get a nicer house than me?" he asked, pretending to pout. He had a little trailer attached to a pickup truck that was parked just a few yards away from the RV, and he was one of many. About half of the Circus personnel had mobile home type things, and about half shared rooms at hotels and bed and breakfasts.

"Because I am so much greater than you, worm," she replied. "Now, hand over the phone and go back to practicing your magic tricks."

Finnick crinkled his nose and lifted the phone, "Could you hold a little longer, please? Thanks." He put it back to his shoulder, as if that could stop Peeta from hearing their conversation, and held up a finger. "Okay, point A, my magic is the realest of real and you know it. Point B, there's a phone call for you. I've had him on hold the whole walk over."

"Yes, thank you, Finn," she said, holding out her hand and shaking her fingers in a 'give it to me now' gesture. He didn't give it to her. "Come on, man. What more do you need to say?"

"Who is it?"

"Peeta, probably. Or the escort service I work for on the side."

"Peeta, the mystery boy with his number on your arm yesterday? That Peeta?" asked Finnick. Katniss nodded and shook her hand more insistently. He still kept his grip on the phone. "So you did call him? Well, hot damn. I guess Annie owes me fifteen bucks or something else tonight, if you catch my drift." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Oh my God, too much information. Give it to me now or I will smack that grin right off your face," she snapped. He grinned wider and tossed it through the air, and she was lucky to catch it. Then, he turned and headed back out of the RV, shutting the door behind him. She raised the phone to her ear, cautiously saying, "Hello?"

Peeta was laughing, really hard apparently, because it took him a moment to calm down.

"Hey," he said finally.

"Sorry about that. Finnick is…um, I cannot even accurately describe Finnick's personality," said Katniss, sitting down at the table near the door. "He's annoying at times, but also really great when you get to know him."

"Like me?"

"No, you're not annoying," she said. Why did he think he was annoying? Why did he think he was anything less than a really cute boy with a really cute personality? He dripped with wittiness and smarts, and could probably tell her what she was doing wrong when it came to the algebra she was learning. As far as she could tell, Peeta was pretty great, but he didn't seem to notice how great he was at all. "You're a sweetheart."

"Shh, no, I am a super manly man what are you talking about," he said, deepening his voice. "I like to lift weights and show my muscles to luscious blond cheerleaders. I like to throw a ball that isn't even spherical and get touchdowns."

"Isn't Cap a football player?" she asked. Peeta laughed.

"Yes, and he's eavesdropping from just outside the kitchen." He laughed, and a timer went off on his end. "Agh. Sorry, bread's done."

"Peeta, you shouldn't be on the phone while you're working," she said. The last thing she wanted was for him to be scolded, or for him to burn himself or something. That would put quite a damper on their unfinalized plans.

"Oh, I get off in like, two seconds," he said. "Like, literally as soon as this batch of bread is out of the oven. Cap, hey, I'm on the phone. Can you get the bread out of the oven?"

Cap said something that she just barely heard. "Tell him hello for me."

"Katniss says hello…CAP WHAT ARE YOU DOING STOP," he yelled suddenly, and Katniss had to hold the phone away from her ear. She heard him set down his phone and yell again, but this time it was more of a wordless, frustrated yell. "You are so immature. How are you going to explain this to Dad?"

"Easy. I'm going to tell him that I started pelting you with bread pieces because you were on the phone," said Cap mockingly, "when you were meant to be working."

"My shift is over!" growled Peeta, and he said something else too, but quietly. It sounded like admonishment for embarrassing him, and then concern for his possibly burned fingers that Cap just brushed off and said he'd run them under cold water. Then Peeta was back, holding the phone to his ear and saying, "Sorry about that. Cap is, well, I cannot accurately describe Cap's personality."

She laughed. "I can. He's your big brother and he thinks it's his job to give you a hard time. My guess is that he's of the mindset that the only person who gets to mess with you is him, and anyone else should be punched."

"Your guess is correct. So, when did you want that burger?"

* * *

They settled on a time after the last show of the day, which was set to end just after seven. Peeta mentioned that he'd asked to borrow the family car, and that he'd been planning to pick her up and take her home since she'd been the transportation that morning. Katniss agreed, and told him she could get him backstage if he wanted, as long as he stayed at the bakery for a while to give whatever messenger time to get a pass to him. He seemed good with that.

"So, meet me backstage right around the end of the show. We can walk the arena, if you want…" she said.

"Yes, yes, will do. Okay. I'll see you then?"

"Yes, yes you will," said Katniss. She hung up on him, still smiling, and tucked the phone in her pocket. She left the RV and headed out to the fairgrounds, flagging down the nearest stage hand and telling him where to go and who to look for. He told her that he was more than happy to help, and then he turned and walked away towards the line of Circus vans, twirling a set of keys around his fingers and carrying a spare backstage pass in the other. He whistled as he went, and Katniss watched until she couldn't see him anymore.


	7. Goodbye, June

**Chapter Six: Goodbye, June**

Peeta paid student admission to get into the Circus before the show started, and then he milled about among the vendor's booths and games for a while. Sweat dampened the back of his neck and hair, and his hands were terribly clammy. God, what was it that made him nervous? Was it the fact that he, of all people, had a backstage pass dangling around his neck? He could just go back there and stand behind the scenes of the Circus without trouble, maybe even blend in with the non-performers that were surely around.

Or did his nerves come from something simpler: the fact that he was about to take Katniss Everdeen, literally the girl of his dreams, out for a burger at some stupid diner up the road? He felt like she deserved more. Why hadn't he put on a suit, or gotten her flowers? On one hand he felt like not doing it made him a cheapskate, and on the other he felt as if showing up like that would've done nothing but make her laugh at the terrible corniness of it.

When they announced that the show was starting in a matter of minutes, Peeta hurried for the tent entrance and slipped into a seat in a back row, glad that he had his glasses on and could see from there. When the lights dimmed, he watched with the same enthrallment he had from the start, even though he'd seen this performance live twice already and made out with the star of the show.

Okay, so it wasn't making out exactly, but what happened was within that realm.

When Katniss came out with Gale and they did the act, it went smoothly until Gale went to leave and he brushed up against her, which seemed to earn him a deadly glare. He guessed their "talk" hadn't gone so well then. He also figured that it was about time he got out of the tent so he could meet Katniss backstage on time. Also, he'd guzzled a large coke throughout the performance and really had to pee.

So Peeta muttered polite apologies and the occasional "excuse me" as he worked his way past the other occupants of his row, who didn't seem thrilled that he was blocking their view during the best part, but it couldn't be helped. He got the ushers to let him out of the tent and tossed out his cup before checking his watch and his phone for the time. He always checked both out of habit, and he was just noticing that it was weird now. He contemplated it as he bolted across the fairgrounds towards the bathroom, and stopped when he had to put extra thought into which bathroom he was entering. Double checking the sign as well as remembering which was left and which was right.

He ran in, did what he had to do, washed his hands and fixed his hair, and then ran out. It'd taken him about over a minute to do all that, he figured as he hurried back to the tent. The applause became thunderous as he neared it, but this time he asked the ushers where the back entrance was instead of going back in through the front.

"You have a pass?" asked one. He nodded and fumbled with the lanyard and card, emblazoned with the fiery mockingjay symbol. The guy nodded in return and led him around to the part of the tent that jutted out, molding to the shape of the arena but throwing off the actual oval shape completely. "Here it is."

"Thanks," Peeta said, and the guy patted his shoulder.

"You know you'll get pummeled if you hurt that girl, right?" asked the guy, and Peeta turned red. It must've been that everyone had heard about his date with Katniss. He gulped, looking terrified, despite the fact that he doubted he was even close to capable of hurting her.

"She'd beat me up first," he managed to say awkwardly, running one hand through his hair.

The usher laughed. "That's what I meant." And then he walked back to his post. Trying not to overthink it, Peeta ducked through the tent flap entrance and walked into the backstage area as confidently as he could. It was bustling as the last of the chariots rode out into the arena, stage hands waiting around, talking into headsets. A girl in a black skirt somehow managed to carry two birdcages past him, each holding two mockingjays. Katniss's mockingjays.

Peeta tried to hang back and avoid being noticed, but he still felt eyes on him. He had to look down to make sure he'd redone his fly properly, that his clothes weren't ripped anywhere, and that he wasn't so obviously favoring his good leg because for some reason he was always worried that people would notice that.

Then the chariots were roaring back in, all four of them. He watched the acrobats get off and head in one direction, and then Finnick the Spectacular leaping dramatically from his own chariot and waltzing after them. The equestrian girls were in the next one, and then his eyes were drawn completely to the final chariot. Katniss was wearing her finale costume, the one that looked like mockingjay feathers, and she was hurriedly removing herself from the carriage as if it was full of hot coals pressing against her feet.

"Wow, Catnip, I said I was sorry," Gale shouted over the sounds of the crowd outside and the stagehands working backstage.

Katniss flipped him off and continued walking away, right towards Peeta. She hadn't seen him yet, he was sure of it, but she was walking right in his direction anyway.

"Hey, Katniss," he said when she got nearer, and he couldn't contain the feeling he got when her face suddenly brightened. "Is everything—"

He was cut off midsentence when she launched herself into his arms, enveloping him in a tight hug.

"—okay?" he finished as she squeezed his middle. She nodded against him and pulled back.

"Everything is fine. I'm going to change real quick, and then we can go, okay?" she said, grasping his hands. He nodded slowly, and then she took his hand and pulled him along the backstage part of the tent, stopping at a curtained dressing room of sorts that he'd passed without realizing it belonged to Katniss, despite the little sign that was clipped to the curtain. It was made from opaque separators and curtains hung up on a rod between them, which was somehow attached to the tent's sloping ceiling.

"What about walking the arena?" he asked as she slipped through the curtains and closed them behind her. He could hear her unzipping the back of the dress and blushed, because just that sound put all sorts of images in his teenaged mind.

"Oh, I kind of thought we'd just go," she replied after a moment's hesitation. There was something in her voice that didn't sound quite right, whether it be a note of whatever or a barely detected tremble. Peeta stood there and listened to her rustling around, changing from her costume into whatever else she had in there, but he was less focused on that and more focused on the fact that she was clearly upset about something. He didn't know what, but he was determined to try and make it better.

Once it seemed like it'd been long enough for her to be dressed, he asked, "Are you decent?"

"Yes…"

He slipped into her dressing room, rather calmly despite the red coloring his cheeks and the fact that it was _her dressing room_. Katniss looked at him through a mirror that stood at one end, braiding her hair. She was wearing a yellow sundress that came to her knees and had a white sash and bow around the middle. Her shoes were white sandals, and she had a package of makeup removing wipes sitting on the chair. Her costume was hung up in one corner, the hem of it brushing against the flooring of the tent.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked gently. She finished off the braid with a hair tie and turned around to look right at him.

"Yes. Could you hand me those?" She pointed to the wipes. Peeta picked them up and put the package in her hand, and then sat in their place. He watched, hypnotized as she wiped away her smoky, glittery performance makeup.

"Do you need me to beat him up for you?" asked Peeta. He was joking, for the most part, since he probably couldn't beat up anyone he didn't have a size advantage over. Gale was lighter than him, probably, and not as bulky, but he was a few inches taller. But since she'd offered to beat someone up for him in the past, it only made sense that he did the same for her.

She smiled and laughed, which was exactly what he'd been hoping for.

"No, it's fine," she said. "Maybe later I'll beat him up myself."

There was a piece of stray hair in her face, falling near her eyes, and Peeta itched to get up and brush it away. But instead he sat there, transfixed, as she bent close to the mirror and wiped away the last of what she needed to be rid of. He watched as she sat on the ground, dug through a bag, and started to reapply.

He remembered a conversation with Delly about girls and makeup. He hadn't understood why they were so into it, since they were beautiful no matter what, and she'd shrugged. She told him that different girls did it for different reasons, some to impress, some because they didn't feel pretty without it. She was one that did it not for anyone else, but because she wanted to. Katniss was a lot like Delly and probably put on this makeup exclusively because she wanted to.

Peeta didn't care whether she wore makeup. He just hoped she felt as beautiful as he thought she was.

As she finished, he fidgeted until she turned to look at him. "You look great," he said, his voice faltering a little on the last word. Different parts of his body were continuously betraying him, for God's sake, what would be next?

He grimaced inwardly when it occurred to him that in the ways of embarrassing bodily betrayals, he really hadn't seen the worst.

"Thanks, Peeta," she said, grabbing a little purse from behind her makeup bag and standing up. "Ready to go?"

He nodded and wordlessly followed her out of the dressing room and out of the tent. She held his hand as they walked through the fairgrounds, toward the exit, where his father's car was parked between a Jeep and an Impala that he envied deeply.

"Holy shit, an Impala," said Katniss. "Like Supernatural. I swear this is the only type of car I can identify on sight."

And just like that, he was definitely in love.

* * *

The diner was brightly lit and Katniss thought it was very cheerful. An old-fashioned jukebox sat at one end and underfoot, there was classic black and white tile that she decided completed the look of the restaurant. Peeta led her to what he said was his favorite booth, situated right in the middle of the diner.

"The best seat in the house for people-watching," he said as she slid into one side and he sat down in another.

"That's not creepy," she replied. And then she winced, because she had sounded sarcastic, but she hadn't meant it that way. As someone who regularly walked around crowded places trying to remain unnoticed, people-watching was something she practiced. "I mean, I do it all the time at the Circus."

She sat up straighter and clasped her hands together. The same waitress she and the others had had before swung by, her hair pulled back in a ponytail and her name tag pinned to a yellow shirt instead of a purple one.

"Peeta, hi," she said, and she seemed a little surprised. Especially when she looked over and saw Katniss sitting there. "What brings you here tonight?"

"Date," he said, blushing brightly. He gestured to Katniss with a shy smile on his face, and the waitress called Myra grinned.

"That's really great!" Myra replied excitedly. And then she became just a tad more businesslike, asking them for their drink order and receiving it: a root beer and a Sprite. "Thanks, guys. I'll bring that right out."

With that, she walked away to tend to other customers.

"Small town?" Katniss asked, hoping that was all it was. The last thing she needed was to have walked into an establishment that employed someone Peeta had had a fling with or something.

"She's my brother's on-off girlfriend," said Peeta. Katniss let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. "Myra's basically his best friend turned lover, the best match in the world for him. Walden, however, repeatedly decides that he's not good enough for her or some shit and they're off again. After a while he goes back to her, finding she never stopped loving him, and they're on. It's kind of silly, but we all know they're going to get married someday."

"How nice," said Katniss genuinely, fiddling with the strap of her purse. She cursed herself for worrying, for being nervous, but she really couldn't help it. It was her first official date after all, and it was with Peeta, this cute kid she'd met so many years ago but didn't really know until now. And she still didn't know him. She knew his favorite color and his brothers' names and where the scars on his leg had come from, but she didn't know everything.

She wanted to know everything.

Myra brought their drinks a moment later. They each ordered a burger and sent her off again, and Katniss started her interrogation. She asked him his favorite food, movie, show, book, and just about anything she could think of. She asked him what he'd do with a million dollars, a question to which a lot of people would say "charity". Peeta said he'd donate some, but he'd use some for school and some for supporting himself after, when he was whatever he ended up being. He didn't know what that would be, though he kind of hoped he could make it as an artist.

She asked him about his childhood, learning about his penchant for curling up by himself and reading. She heard about his mother and how she was always a ticking time bomb, and she learned about the way his brothers always looked out for him. In turn, he learned about her family issues. Her mom's behavior after her dad died; how she and Prim lived with the Circus instead of with their mother. Details, details, details about one another that couldn't be overlooked.

They wouldn't have forever to get to know each other, after all, so they just spilled out everything they could at that booth in the diner.

After dinner, Peeta paid, and when they left the diner he took her hand instead of her taking his. For some reason, she got a lot of satisfaction from this very simple fact, as if it meant she had broken past his shyness and reached someone willing to initiate hand holding. Which admittedly wasn't a big deal but whatever.

The sun was still out, but just barely, and the sky was turning pink and orange in its wake. They reached the car and Katniss went to her side and Peeta went to his, but neither of them got in right away. Peeta stood there, the door open, looking almost like he was suspended in time as he appreciated the sight before him. Katniss stood there and watched him watch the sky. There was such a softness to Peeta, she thought. He was the type of person who took his time with life and stopped to watch the sunset. Things mattered to him. She mattered to him.

Katniss knew that she mattered to a lot of people, but not all of them were important to her. And lately, only the most important person to her had actually shown real evidence. Of course, Prim was all that mattered...but it could never hurt to have more affectionate people in her life, even if it was only for a little while.

"Goodbye, June," said Peeta softly, derailing her somewhat negative train of thought. He turned around and grinned at her. "Very soon it will be July, hot days and nights punctuated with intense patriotism in the form of flags and streamers and fireworks."

"Do you do this every month?" she asked. "Oh, here comes December, the month of ice and commercialized holiday cheer. Candy canes and that weird fluffy Santa Lingerie found in basically every store. JOY TO THE WORLD BITCHES."

"Um. Not really," he said, his smile shrinking but still glowing.

"Well, without that announcement I would've forgotten today's date, so thank you," said Katniss. She climbed into the car and buckled herself in, and then looked expectantly at Peeta. He followed suit and soon, they were driving back towards the fairgrounds. She was kind of sad to see the date end, and she thought that maybe she could make him walk her to the RV in order to drag it out. Or perhaps challenge him to another game, with the stakes being another excuse to see him again. She quite liked that idea.

So when he parked in the grassy lot and they walked together to the gate, Katniss smiled at the woman in the ticket booth whose name she could never remember. She motioned for Peeta to wait, and then walked over.

"Hey," she said. "Can you make sure that this guy can always get in free of charge? He's with me."

The woman nodded and went back to counting the money in the lock box. When she fell back beside him, Peeta gaped at her as if she'd just suggested they hire a troupe of elephants for his next birthday party.

"What?" she asked.

"Me? Free admission?" he croaked. She hadn't realized he would be so surprised that she would ask for such a thing.

"Always," she replied. "You're with me."

"Always," he repeated carefully, almost to himself. His eyes took on a faraway look, even as she grasped his hand and began walking through the fairgrounds with him.

"I was thinking," she began when he seemed back to himself. "If you don't mind, we could finish off this date with another little challenge, hmm? What do you think?"

"What, so you can win another wager and get me to take you out again?" he asked. "Or vice versa? You know, Katniss, it would be easier just to ask. Now that, um, we...have...there's something...um..."

"Now that we're actually together, you mean?" said Katniss, smirking. His cheeks blossomed with red.

"Yes, yes," he said hurriedly, but he grinned along with his words. He seemed pretty damn thrilled about it. "That is what I meant to say, thank you."

"Anytime, baker's boy."

Katniss decided that maybe she didn't need a game to justify her wanting to spend more time with him. She decided that perhaps, walking her to the RV would be all he had to do tonight before she let him go.

She led the way, of course, as they dodged the last of the circusgoers. The crowd had thinned considerably, since it was all the children's bedtimes and the sun was creeping down towards the horizon. They didn't really talk on their way there, but Katniss still felt interrupted when they finally reached her house-on-wheels. She could just barely hear Prim moving around inside, running water to wash dishes or brush her teeth.

"I do want to see you again," she said, standing at the door. Peeta still had her hand, and he moved his thumb across her skin in a way that almost tickled, but was more pleasant than not.

"Me too. I mean," he tripped over his words, as he tended to do. She didn't mind. "I mean that I would too like to see you again. I mean. I would also...yeah."

"I'll call you," she said, squeezing his hand and then loosening her grip. When she did this, Peeta must've gotten the impression that this was it, that he was now expected to let go and start moving away.

That was not what she wanted. She wanted him to hold on tighter, and she wanted him to pull her closer. God, she had to do everything herself with this boy. Before he could pull away completely and open his mouth to go through a goodnight/goodbye routine, Katniss jerked him forward by the wrist. He stumbled and practically collided with her, but she had timed it right.

She kissed him with one hand poised at the side of his face, the other with its fingers threaded through his at their sides. She kissed him continuously, but not hungrily, and he kissed her back with tenderness that mirrored her own. When she finally stopped it, Katniss was slightly breathless but pleasantly so, because it had been one of the greatest things she'd ever ventured to do.

"That is also something I would _definitely_ like to do again," she said. She planted one more kiss on his cheek before dropping his hand and reaching for the door, which was probably unlocked since Prim was still awake. She was so trusting, never really caring if the door was secured or not. "Goodnight, Peeta."

"Goodnight, Katniss."

She slipped inside without another word. Prim hollered a hello from the bathroom, but she didn't reply. Instead she leaned over their little kitchen table and watched out the window as Peeta turned and walked away.

How interesting, she thought, that of all the people she had met during her years with the Circus (basically her entire life), this was the one she was drawn to. She had met plenty of boys, none of which she had ever had time for: the Circus would be gone in a matter of days, so why bother? But somehow Peeta was different. Somehow, he'd captivated her enough...

All she really knew was that boys who moved like panthers or spouted charm every time they breathed didn't do to her what Peeta did—they didn't make her palms sweat, and they didn't make her smile almost uncontrollably. Of all the boys who'd ever expressed interest, Peeta was the only one that made her heart beat just a little faster.


	8. Pancake Lifestyle

**Chapter Seven: Pancake Lifestyle **

The next morning, Peeta woke to the sound of someone walking across his carpet. The footsteps were softer than his father's or Cap's, but the fact that he could hear them indicated that it couldn't be Walden—Walden moved soundlessly, like a cat, or a shadow, or maybe a shadowcat if that was a thing. So he narrowed it down to Delly, and he was even more sure when she pulled open the curtains to let in the summer sunlight and mimicked the sound of a rooster's crow.

"Get up. It's Pancake Tuesday," she said, climbing up onto his bed and nearly stepping on his leg. But she was careful not to, as always. He groaned and buried his face in his pillow. "You big baby! It's just the sun."

"It's too bright," he said.

"I'm a lot brighter," said Delly. "And hotter."

"Haha," he said, rolling over and peering up at her through half-closed eyes. She stood over him with the sunlight catching the gold strands in her hair, wearing white cotton and looking an awful lot like an angel, if it weren't for her devilish grin. "You wish."

"Oh, yes," Delly laughed brightly, "I nearly forgot that your girlfriend sets herself on fire on a daily basis. How was your date last night? Tell me over pancakes."

She jumped off his bed and ran out of the room, content that she had woken him and managed to bring up the whole Girl on Fire thing in one brief conversation. Peeta hauled himself into a sitting position and spastically kicked off his tangled sheets. He was still wearing his jeans from yesterday, which were still dusted in flour and sporting a ketchup stain on his right thigh. He'd taken off his shoes and glasses when he'd gone to bed the night before, but he hadn't had the presence of mind to do anything else. His teeth felt grainy and plaquey from lack of brushing and he was sure his retainer could use cleaning. He stuck his nose into the collar of his shirt to figure out how he smelled, and then recoiled—so there was definitely a shower to be taken. There was also another thing to be dealt with, something embarrassing that he was glad Delly hadn't seen, though she wouldn't have said anything if she had.

He got out of bed and grabbed some clothes for the day, and he made sure the hall was empty before he quickly made his way to the bathroom just across from his room. Peeta was notorious for taking the longest showers in the house since Mom left, even though they were still only ten minutes or so. His brothers liked to tease him about what he was probably doing in there, and he always turned bright red, especially when they were right.

When he was out of the shower, he put on the shirt and shorts he'd grabbed from his drawers and toweled off his hair. He realized belatedly that it was his black Circus t-shirt, the one he'd purchased online just last year, and that his khaki shorts were worn at the bottoms. Ugh. Whatever. He hobbled out of the bathroom with clean clothes, a clean body, a clean retainer, and a pair of smudgy glasses dangling from his hand. He wiped them off with his shirt on his way down the stairs.

He missed a step near the bottom and ended up on his ass. He could hear their good-natured laughter from the kitchen as he picked himself up, put the glasses on, and limped in. His leg felt a little achey this morning, but it wasn't as bad as it could be.

"Good morning, brother," said Cap from his chair at the head of the table. He rocked in it while Dad's back was turned, the front legs off the ground and the back ones teetering. Walden had buried his head in the crook of his elbow and was snoring lightly, and Delly was eating the first stack of chocolate pancakes. Because Delly always got the first pancakes on Tuesday mornings, and the first pieces of French toast on Fridays. It was a running joke that Delly was the favorite child, which Peeta didn't mind, because she might as well have been his sister anyway.

"Morning," said Peeta, settling next to his friend. She grinned at him, showing off the chocolate that was stuck to her teeth.

"Your phone," she said, pointing to where it sat on the table. "It was on your bedroom floor and would've gotten kicked under the bed again if I hadn't grabbed it."

"Thanks," he said, and picked it up to check his messages. There was an email telling him about a new Tumblr follower, which he showed to Delly, who congratulated him with a thumbs up as she chewed. His dad slid a plate of pancakes in front of him as he found a voicemail from Prim's phone and lifted it to his ear.

"Hi. Um. Katniss here," her voice sounded in his ear. "I don't have any shows until this afternoon, so I thought we could hang out. Um. Call me when you wake up or whatever." And then she'd disconnected. He got up and wandered into the living room to call her back right away. He didn't care if his pancakes went and got cold.

Prim picked up on the second ring, but as soon as he'd said "Hello…" she transferred it to her sister.

"Hi," said Katniss. He thought he could hear a smile in her voice, and that made him smile. "Did you just get up?"

"No, yes, kind of," he said. "I'm having breakfast with my family."

"Oh, cool," she replied. "I'm making instant oatmeal for Prim. She's always afraid she'll do it wrong and it will explode in the microwave."

He chuckled. "That has happened to me before. Which hardly means anything, because I have the worst luck ever."

"How could you have the worst luck? Let's remember who you're dating," she said with a teasing tone. "I'm quite a catch, you have to admit."

"I have no trouble admitting that. You're everything I could hope for," he said, and then he scolded himself for being so forward again. He was always slipping up and saying too much, and he hated that. "I mean. Um. Have you had breakfast?"

"Nah. I'm usually not much of a breakfast person. Unless it's pancakes or something good like that," she sighed. "But unless we go out with the other performers or something, it's fruit or granola bars or some shit."

"We're having pancakes," he blurted. "We always have pancakes on Tuesdays."

"Oh. That's funny," she said. That smile was still in her voice. He heard the tone of a microwave in the background. "Prim, get your goopy stuff!" she shouted in his ear. He winced. "Sorry."

"It's fine. I can ask my dad if you can, um, come over. For pancakes. I mean he's really great about people coming over," he said. "Loves to show off his cooking skills and meet our friends and girlfriends and um shit I didn't mean to imply that you're my girlfriend I don't know if we're there yet oh my God I just meant that my brothers…"

"Shh. Peeta. Yes, girlfriend works," she said, and he felt elation wash over him. It was a wave so delightfully loud that he almost didn't hear the next thing she said, which was, "I would love to come over for pancakes, if your family doesn't mind."

He was glad his mom was gone. She would've put up a fight, asking him who the girl was, why she should come for their family breakfast. She had been used to Delly, since she was Peeta's oldest friend, but they still rubbed each other the wrong way and it was so much more awkward when the two of them were in the same room. But Delly could show up whenever she wanted now, and his dad could gladly accept that Peeta had just invited someone else to join them too.

Peeta gave Cap his pancakes so he would stop asking questions and so he wouldn't have to eat cold ones, and then he went back into the living room to watch out the front window for Katniss's Circus van. It pulled up in front of the house but didn't park, and he saw that it wasn't her in the driver's seat but Finnick the Spectacular. Another girl sat in the passenger seat as Katniss climbed out of the back. Before they drove away, Finnick shouted something after her and she casually stuck up her middle finger for him to see without even bothering to look back.

She was wearing a pair of jeans with patches sewn on, probably a favorite pair if it'd been repaired so many times. Her sleeveless top was green to match her shoes and it was frilly and flowy like the one she had on yesterday morning. Her hair was braided, a signature style apparently, and Peeta couldn't stop himself from sighing audibly at how _fucking gorgeous_ she was. He jumped to open the door for her as soon as she reached the porch, grinning uncontrollably.

"Hey," she said breezily, and she stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek as she moved past to get inside. He shut the door behind her.

"Hi, hey, good morning," he said, and then winced at his excessiveness. One greeting would've sufficed, but he'd spouted three. He was glad when she only smiled and patted his arm, waiting for him to lead her into the kitchen to meet everyone.

"Walden, wake up," Cap was half-shouting, probably kicking him under the table. Delly had eaten all her pancakes and was probably waiting for seconds. Walden was stirring, and his hand moved to make contact with the plate of two pancakes that their father had probably just put in front of him a moment ago. Dad turned the instant they walked in, grinning and wielding his spatula like a king's scepter.

"Hello," he said. "You must be Katniss."

"Yes, I am the Katniss," she said, and then her smile faltered for just a second. Delly looked up and started examining her, Cap stopped rocking in his chair and smirked, and Walden spared her only a glance before he picked up his fork and started to eat. "Um. Hi."

She sounded considerably less confident now that she was being stared at by most of his family and had accidentally called herself _"the Katniss"_ instead of just Katniss. Peeta figured it would be helpful if he introduced her to everyone properly, so he put his hand on her back briefly and comfortingly and started with his father.

"That one at the stove with the spatula is my Dad," he announced, and then moved on. He peeled away from her and wedged himself between Dad and Walden, placing his hands on his brother's shoulders. "This sleepy one is my oldest brother, Walden. Walden, say hello." Walden did not say hello. Peeta nudged the back of his head so that he nearly tipped forward into his pancakes. "You have met Capulet, the football star, the middle child, by no means the most attractive of us. That's obviously me."

"Hey!" Cap protested, but Peeta only patted his head. He was having fun with this, and Katniss was looking vibrant again, holding back her laughter. The whole reason he was doing it like this was to make her feel better, and it was working.

"Ooooh, I'm next," said Delly. "Can I be the mom?"

"No," said Peeta. "You're the baby. This is Delly, my bestest and loyalest friend since forever. She's pretending she's our sister today. Aren't you, Delly?"

"If it means I get more pancakes, then yes."

"As long as they're not the pancakes meant for me," said Katniss. Peeta hurried to pull out the chair next to his, motioning for her to sit down. She happily obliged and he had the impulse to kiss the top of her head once she had sat down, so he did, right in front of everyone. Realizing what he'd done, he dropped down into his seat and tried to hide his blush by staring at the table.

"We couldn't have that," said Mr. Mellark, and he plated up three pancakes and handed them over to Katniss, who thanked him with a smile. "Guests first here. Then Peeta. Then Delly may have more."

"Delly eats us out of house and home," said Cap around a mouthful of pancake. Peeta kicked his brother under the table with his good leg. Delly glared and did the same.

"You do that yourself, you goliath. You eat twice as much as I do," she snapped at him. Katniss laughed, and it started with a snort that she was clearly embarrassed by enough that she covered her mouth throughout the entire giggling spell. Peeta looked over at her, his heart thrumming with adoration. He couldn't help it. When Delly elbowed him lightly in the side, he turned his head, and she whispered, "I think I like her."

"I like her too," he whispered back.

"Ha, no, you're completely smitten."

He wasn't going to argue this time. Because he definitely was smitten with Katniss Everdeen. He had been in love with the idea of her for such a long time, obsessed even. But now he knew the girl, the real Katniss, the one who made her sister's oatmeal for her and didn't own a phone. The one that made weird jokes and watched Supernatural and kept kissing him every time she saw him. He was in love with her, from the snort in her laugh to the way she cut her pancakes into sixths and ate each piece individually.

If this was love, how on earth did people ever manage to fall out of it?

* * *

Katniss thoroughly enjoyed having breakfast with the Mellarks and Delly. Peeta had mentioned her and how close they were, so it wasn't surprising to see her that morning, but she hadn't exactly expected it either. It was a good thing it was so easy to think of Delly as Peeta's sister, with her matching golden locks and big blue eyes. It was a good thing she knew Delly wasn't even into guys. It was a good thing Peeta kept looking at Katniss like she was the very origin of everything amazing.

Katniss was born with a jealous streak. They said she'd shown signs of it even as a baby, when someone was paying too much attention to something else and not Katniss herself. They said she'd been very adamant about not having a sibling, because her parents were hers and hers only and she already had to share them with the Circus. They said she'd been upset when other people wanted to hold Prim or play with Prim, because Prim was her sister and hers only. But with all the knowledge she had of Delly combined with the fact that Peeta seemed to only have eyes for her, Katniss wasn't feeling jealous at all. Which was good, because she liked Delly quite a lot.

As they sat around the table, most of them having finished their pancakes, except for Delly and Mr. Mellark, Katniss reached for Peeta's hand under the table.

"Hey, Kat," said Cap. He'd quickly shortened her name like the last part was too difficult or something, which was something people seemed to do a lot. Perhaps it was because they thought Katniss sounded weird, or because they were just trying to give her a nickname. It didn't matter to her either way, and she was sure Cap didn't mean anything by it. "There's been something I've been meaning to ask."

"What?"

"Yesterday morning, when Peeta was on the phone with you, he was laughing harder than I'd seen him laugh in a while," he said. "I was just wondering what you had said?"

Katniss laughed. "Oh. That. You don't want to know."

"What." Cap seemed confused.

"That makes it sound like it was bad. Um. God, it doesn't make sense if you don't know the whole conversation," she hurried to explain. She turned to Peeta, whose cheeks had faded to a soft pink since his last embarrassment. "Peeta?"

He sighed. "I pulled an old Mrs. Mayberry, and she flipped her shit."

"I did not!" she protested. "I was reasonably embarrassed. I had thought I'd dialed wrong. Is that something you do a lot, then?"

"Practically every time he answers the phone," said Walden, rolling his eyes. "She is a character of his own invention, created one day when he still had to use his cane all the time and decided to do an impression of an old lady. He was like, eight."

"Yes. Well, after I revealed myself as actually Peeta," said Peeta, grinning. "Katniss said _'Damn you, Peeta. I hope you have nightmares where you become old Mrs. Mayberry and are forced to look at yourself naked.'_"

"Yeah. Exactly," said Katniss. Delly chuckled and peered around Peeta to look at her. "Word for word, probably."

"These boys have frighteningly good memories," Delly explained. Katniss nodded—she'd noticed. "Except Walden. He's like Dory from _Finding Nemo_."

"Who?" asked Walden, which made everyone laugh.

God, wasn't this the dream? Sitting down with a boyfriend that obviously adored her—he literally could not hide it and it was hilarious—with his family and his best friend ever, eating breakfast and laughing. It was so nice to feel welcomed into this group of strangers and it was so easy, to sit there and lose herself in it. Because Peeta was adorable and perfect and his family was amazing, from the brilliance of Mr. Mellark's pancake-making skills to the way Delly could so perfectly imitate Cap (and vice versa—which was even funnier). It was so easy to be part of this for a moment, instead of part of what she was actually part of. The Circus.

She wondered if this was why Gale wanted out—because the glimpses he'd had of the world, of the normalcy, and how tantalizing they'd been. Part of it was because he didn't feel like he belonged—he'd said as much. But maybe there was a part of him that just wanted something more. She could understand that. Katniss had never felt out of place in the Circus, but suddenly she could relate to the appeal of staying put. Of everyday averageness. She could see why Gale would rather settle down; would rather have a pancake lifestyle instead of a granola bar on the road lifestyle.

What Gale wanted wasn't to leave her behind, to cast aside the only family he had left. What Gale wanted was liberation. What Gale wanted was the opportunity to be something else. Not the kid with the flaming arrows, standing in the shadow of the Girl on Fire, but someone all his own. Someone with schooling, with a great job in a techy field and a nice wife and the pitter-patter of tiny feet across the floors of a house that was actually and truly his home.

Who was she to tell him he couldn't want that?

* * *

"I want to see him. I want to see the monkey," she said. Peeta was quick—he knew what she was talking about right away, even if it took him a minute to get out the words that he wanted to reply with.

"Totally. Yeah. He's upstairs," he said, and he smiled at her. When she smiled back, he told his heart to stop fluttering and let him actually have more than a minute of rational, put-together thinking. Peeta pushed out his chair and stood up, with minor difficulty, because his leg protested a little bit. "Come on."

"Leave the door wide open, lovebugs," said Mr. Mellark as he washed the dishes, his back to them.

"Will do, Dad," Peeta said back, and he could feel the embarrassed heat creeping up the back of his neck. Katniss looked at her feet. Delly snickered and got up out of her chair, throwing an arm around each of their shoulders and leaning between them.

"I'll be chaperone. They're not going to start making out if I'm there, trust me. I am a great killer of the mood," she boasted, and then started dragging them both towards the stairs. Peeta shrugged off her touch as his father laughed. Katniss didn't. As soon as they were halfway up, Delly and Katniss ahead of him, she started laughing.

"So, what's you're preferred weapon?" she asked Delly, who still had an arm around her. "For killing the mood, I mean."

"Talking about projectile vomiting is my favorite," Delly replied. "Or spiders. People hate spiders."

"Yes they do," Katniss agreed. Delly laughed. Peeta remembered thinking that Katniss and Delly would get along, and he was one hundred percent correct. They had similar senses of humor, centered around weird and corny jokes. They both seemed to really enjoy pancakes and neither of them seemed to mind spiders very much.

"Delly, you have your own girlfriend," he said as they reached the top. He joined them a moment later and took Katniss by the hand. "This one is mine."

"Of course. She smells anyway," Delly joked, and Katniss wrinkled her nose.

"You're right. I haven't showered in like, a year."

"Wow. One year shower-sober. I applaud you," Delly replied, clapping. She walked ahead and slid into Peeta's bedroom, leaving them alone in the hall. Katniss laughed and turned to him, smiling even wider when she saw how much he was grinning.

And then she followed Delly, venturing into his room for the first time, and looking around. Once he was inside too, he watched her face as she looked around—she looked curious and thoughtful, just taking it all in. She didn't say anything about the bulletin board, despite the fact that a good half of it was about her. _Le Cirque de Feu_ wasn't the only circus on his board, but it was still the most dominant, and he could see how it would seem a little odd to her. But her eyes only lingered there for a few seconds before moving on, and when she finally looked to the bookshelf against the wall his bed was on, her face completely lit up.

"He's so cute!" she said, and walked around the bed, kneeling in front of the shelf and getting a closer look at the monkey. "There's paint on his feet, oh my God, did you get paint on his feet?"

"It was an accident," he said defensively. Delly plopped down in his desk chair and looked on with a smirk, and he made a face at her that Katniss couldn't see. "It kind of just happened."

Peeta walked around his bed and sat down at the edge, watching Katniss examine his monkey. She stood up and her hands lightly grasped the edge of the shelf, like she wanted to hold him. Why she was so interested in Grr, he had no idea, but he didn't care. She was there, his beautiful girlfriend of literally twenty-four hours, and that alone made him so happy that he didn't care about anything else.

"You can pick him up," he said, and she did. Katniss scooped up the monkey and carted it over to the bed, looking him over. She made monkey sounds and waved it in Peeta's face, which made him laugh.

"I'm going to go hang with Walden," announced Delly. "If either of you care. Just, leave the door open like your dad said."

Neither of them really acknowledged her, so she just got up and left. As she did, Peeta was gently taking Grr the monkey from Katniss's hands. When Delly was out the door, he had one of her hands in each of his, his thumbs stroking her skin and making her shiver, apparently. She stepped closer to him and freed her hands from his grasp, putting them on his shoulders and kissing the top of his head. He closed his eyes and sighed softly.

Fuck it.

Peeta tilted his head back and stretched up to kiss her, but he didn't have to strain his neck much because she met him halfway, lowering herself down onto the bed beside him. He captured her mouth with his, overlapping their lips and sliding, which was all he really knew how to do at this point. Didn't matter. He just did that and it evolved. Her lips tasted like chocolate left over from breakfast. Between them drifted the soapy scent still left over from his shower that morning and her subtle flowery perfume that he hadn't noticed until now. One of her hands came around the back of his neck, sliding through his hair, the other grasping the fabric at his shoulder. He refused to be embarrassed when he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, right up against him. Close enough that Delly would be telling them to leave room for Jesus.

But she wasn't there, so they didn't.

Katniss Everdeen was there in his arms, actually making out with him, and Peeta was euphoric. He was as high-on-life that he had ever been, because he was surrounded by the feeling of _her. _

They stayed in his room, switching between conversations and kissing, until she had to leave. Peeta so desperately wanted her to stay that he actually thought to himself: _Damn the Circus_. But of course, he still loved the Circus, but he had realized that he was growing to love its figurehead even more. He watched from his window as she walked to the curb, where Finnick was waiting in the Circus van ready to take her back to her world.

Every step she took, he held tighter onto her promise to come back as soon as she could.

* * *

**Author's note: I really enjoyed this chapter I think it's absolutely adorable. Tell me what you thought in the reviews. **

**I was thinking about this fic during a moment of reflection a while back, and I realized that is a little untrue to the characters, at least how they are in canon. It's kind of like I'm experimenting with what they'd be like without certain traits, like Katniss's guarded heart and the fact that Peeta is a people person and stuff. I think it's working out well enough. **


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